Anya Barton Book Two: My Worst Enemy is Our Silence
by crossMIRAGE19
Summary: "Because he understood," and it was true. As much as I hated to admit it, Tom Riddle was the only friend that could see who I was. Through all the lies he told me, I was sure of one thing: I had really been his first friend. Because liking it or not, we both were the two sides of a coin.
1. Letters to No One

_Dear Hermione,_

_How's summer been to you? Mine's a bit boring, actually. Surprisingly, I've already finished my homework, so you don't have to start pestering me about it._

_Did Ron owl you about visiting the Burrow? I'm still got to ask permission to Mrs. Darcy, but I'm not letting my hopes up._

_Before I forget, has Harry send you a letter? I sent him one a few days ago and he still hasn't answered. I'm worried about him. What if his Uncle doesn't let him write to us?_

_I'm going to ask Ron first. Maybe I'm just getting dramatic or something._

_Love,  
Anya._

* * *

_Dear Ron,_

_Your invitation did arrive, but I suggest you to feed the poor owl. He seems more older that Otto and that's saying something. How's your summer? Hope you have spent it swell, and that your brothers haven't been bothering you._

_Hey, has Harry replied to you? It's been already a week and he hasn't replied at all. I have the theory that his relatives aren't letting him answer, but Hermione said that I was being ridiculous._

_Either way, I would like to investigate that. God, I am sounding like her, aren't I?_

_About your invitation to the Burrow, I am still not sure. But I'll inform you anyways._

_See ya soon,  
Anya._

* * *

_Dear Annie,_

_Happy birthday! It's been two weeks since we last saw each other and you're already twelve years old. Amazing, isn't it?_

_I hope today you get all of your wishes. Sounds a bit cheesy, but I do. I didn't know what to get you, so I decided to order a special drawing kit I saw on a catalogue from Diagon Alley. I was going to buy you a book from this new writer though. It's really fascinating all the things he wrote! Even so, I hope you like this._

_With loads of love,  
Hermione._

* * *

_Dear Anne,_

_Blimey! I had forgotten that you were a month older than Harry. Speaking of him, has he written to you? Hermione says she hasn't received anything from him either. I asked Mum if we could visit him, but she said it was going to be awkward since his family doesn't like anything related to magic._

_Happy birthday by the way! You already realize it, but the cake was obviously from my Mum. My little sister, Ginny, was the one who knitted the gloves for you. She thought it would be nice for you to get – how did she call it again? – a girly thing._

_Don't worry about not coming home. The offer's still open._

_Ron._

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_It's kind of stupid of me to write to you, knowing that you'll probably not answer back. I'm still hoping your uncle and your aunt are the guilty ones, but's already been a long time._

_My birthday just passed two weeks ago and I know yours is going to be in a few days. I would like to give you a present but I can't. Mrs. Darcy hasn't let me out of her sight and I can't go anywhere; not even the bathroom is safe right now._

_Like I wrote to you, this seems rather useless._

_Still hoping,  
Anya._

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_You probably aren't reading this (or you are and you won't answer), but I would like to tell you everything that has happened around St. Louise's._

_There's a time in which we all snap. In which we all reach that point of… I don't know how to say it, so I will just tell you what happened._

_I was writing on the journal you gave me on Christmas, and then Carol Davis came in. You remember her, don't you? She's like the female Draco around here._

_Either way, she saw my notebook and took it away from me. I begged her for return it, promised to do anything she said as long as she wanted. Smirking, she disappeared to the kitchens. I followed her. And you know what I found there?_

_She was burning my journal._

_I couldn't save it Harry; the fire has started to scare ever since we met Quirrell/Voldemort. Even though it was burned, I wasn't angry. Not yet. But somehow, something fell from it. It was a photo. The only one I had of my parents. I received it as gift on Christmas last year, and I foolishly had folded it inside. Carol had gotten her hands on it before I could brave myself up and go for it._

_Taunting me, she ordered me to beg on my knees. I am ashamed to say I did so. I begged, pleaded, told her to seek reason._

_It was all in vain. She ended burning it by letting it fall onto the flames and ashes of the journal._

_I don't know what happened, but suddenly, Carol was screaming._

_I had broken all the mirrors and crystals on St. Louise's. The house had trembled a bit too, leaving cracks on the walls._

_Natasha then Apparated on the room and Obliviated Carol (she erased her memories). Otherwise than that, everyone assumed it had just been an earthquake. Not even Carol could tell later what happened exactly._

_An owl from the Ministry arrived a few moments later. It said that I was going to be held for a trial._

_Nat told me to not worry, that she was going to take care of it._

_I received another owl by the next day. It warned me that if I broke the law again, there wasn't going to be a second chance. I don't know what Nat did, but I am sure it has something to do with the fact that Mrs. Weasley recognized her as a famous person._

_Thank you, because I needed to get this out. And I know you won't reply._

_Love,  
Anya._

* * *

_Harry,_

_This is going to be the last letter I write to you! From now on, I will dedicate to write to Hermione, Ron and Neville. Yes, you read right! Even Neville Longbottom has replied to me._

_Are you stupid or what? I heard from Ron that you received a letter from the Ministry of Magic too! What did I tell you, Harry?_

_Ron and his twin brothers are planning to rescue you. How, I am not sure. But knowing them, its not going to be pretty._

_I already warned you. See you at Hogwarts, wonder boy._

_Anya._


	2. Where there is a flame

"Hello Davis,"

The tall fourteen year old blond jumped, her close-fitting dress lifting up to her thighs. An odd satisfaction settled at the bottom of my being. Carol Davis, St. Louise's professional bully was scared of me, the tiny girl who used to be her punch bag?

Well, I wasn't as little as before. I've grown a bit taller this summer and my dark brown hair reached down my shoulders by now. The old rags I used as clothing were long gone; instead, I was wearing a pair of blue jean shorts with a green forest long-sleeved shirt. My hair was tied up on a ponytail, and unbeknown to anyone, my wand was tucked safely on my belt.

"He – Hello, Barton," she stuttered, looking away from me.

A small smirk lured on the corner of my lips as I walked away from her. Watching Carol Davis squirm under my gaze was certainly something I didn't expect. Then again, all the girls on St. Louise's were doing the same.

Except for a newbie that had arrived on the middle of March whilst I still was at Hogwarts.

Her name is Marie (Spelled Ma – ri – eh). Just Marie.

And she was an odd one.

Younger than myself for two years, the girl had to be the prettiest sight on St. Louise's. she was petite and had black midnight hair, her eyes a beautiful baby blue. She looked like a Japanese girl to me, but her eyes were proof that she was probably half American.

Nobody had told this girl about me. In fact, she seemed very surprised of meeting me. I still remember what Darcy told her the morning after I arrived.

"Marie, this girl here is Anya Barton –" I shot Darcy a suspicious look at the moment. "And she's your superior. You do everything she says about the cleaning schedule, is that clear?"

Marie mutely had nodded, her wide blue eyes staring at me with a vacant expression.

"Oh, and before I forget, she's also your roommate."

I didn't know why, but this girl somehow had ended on Mrs. Darcy's bad side. To work under my command was something, but being sent to sleep on my attic?

All the things that I had kept under lock had been already placed on their same places. The broken mirror had been placed on a different spot, facing the circular window somehow.

All the entire dark side of my attic had been cleaned and organized, not a scratch of dust around. Not a single spider or rat lurking on the corners.

For a wild moment, I had thought I had been paired up with a robot.

But it was when Marie spoke that I realized that I was being paranoid.

"Miss Rosenberg let me open the chest at the bottom of the room," she said quietly. "She said that it was probably the best for this place to look habitable while I was around."

Blinking at her in disbelief, I shrugged away the annoyance I felt at the moment. Those were my things! What right did Natasha have to give permission to a stranger to touch them and please with them as she wanted? But glancing around, I noticed there were only _my_ old things. Nothing else.

Guilty, I just told Marie that we would share. After all, I had my Hogwarts things to keep.

Speaking of it, I had to be very careful about what I do around Marie. Every night as she fell asleep, I would take out my things and start doing the summer work. My books were locked on the trunk as was my uniform, but my wand was always beside me.

The attic had been divided on two sides; the left to Marie, the right to me. My old things decorated her side of the wall, but otherwise than that, she was a lot cleaner than I was.

Small things like the changing quill and my doodling journal were left on my hammock; a photo that Hagrid had taken of my friends and I was glued above my "headboard". Mrs. Weasley famous knitted sweater was hanging on the railing leading down the small stairs. And lying on my nightstand, was the photo of my parents. Whoever had sent it last year, he or she had made sure to enchant it to not move in front of Muggles.

I thought it was a bit weird Marie wasn't strangely concerned about Otto swooping in and out carrying letters, but then, she said; "Miss Rosenberg already warned me you had acquired a pet for your boarding school."

Miss Rosenberg this, Miss Rosenberg that – for god's sake, that girl was actually annoying me! The only ones who managed that were Harry and Ron (at the beginning of First year), and Draco Malfoy.

I was beginning to wonder what didn't Natasha told her. Marie seemed to know everything – and her stoic personality was honestly starting to creep me out.

* * *

Keeping an eye on Marie whilst washing the dishes wasn't easy. With subtlety I didn't have, my eyes scanned her every move as my hands worked themselves on the dirty water.

Since I had been nine years old, Darcy had punished girls by making them work under my command. I didn't understand why, seeing as they were a lot of older employees under her service. They weren't very pleased, but so I wasn't. The girls often did stupid things or didn't do their work at all, which caused me a lot of problems with the ol' coot.

Mrs. Darcy had left something very clear; "If nothing is right, then it's your fault. You're the one in charge, you are the one who makes everything okay."

The St. Louise's population always tried to not get into trouble; they were already rumors about my sadistic ways.

Someone coughed. Both Marie and I ignored her.

That same person tried coughing louder. My hands slowly stopped moving, but I didn't look back. Marie still was sweeping the floor with a mop; she didn't bother to stop at all.

As a final round of fake coughs transform into real ones, I finally look up with annoyance stretched on my face.

It was no surprise to see Carol Davis bending over the trashcan, throwing out what we ate for breakfast today. Since I arrived, I noticed that the older girl was thinner than she could normally be. Her face was paler and paler each day, almost resembling a piece of parchment. Her choice of clothes had changed too; the frilly dresses had been replaced by snugly ones made of elastic fabric, showing more the curves of her body. Carol had also started using makeup, but I pitied whoever taught her, because she resembled more of a clown.

I almost felt sorry for her, than just being fourteen, was already beginning to wear the beauty she had.

"Barton," she sneered sweetly.

Like I said, _almost_ was the keyword.

I nodded at her curtly. But the suspicion didn't disappear as she walked away.

* * *

I was doodling on my journal, trying to duplicate the image the window on the St. Louise's east wing looked like. It was the sunset, and although I hated this place with all my guts, it was the only thing that I liked of the Orphanage; the sight of the sky.

"Hey!" I exclaimed in outrage as my journal was taken away from me. Looking up, I wasn't even fazed to see Carol Davis standing there. It did set me off to see tears running down her face, completely ruining the black mascara she wore.

All in all, she looked like a raccoon.

"Give it back," I said formerly. My hands were clenching and unclenching in anger.

Through the mess of paint she was, Carol somehow managed to smirk. I could tell she was forcing herself to do this. What had happened to her?

"I don't think so Barton," said Davis calmly. I frowned. "I want to know what they teach you on that school of yours."

I scowled. "It's nothing of your concern. The way I see it, is just the same Darcy taught you – not that I had such luxury at all."

"Oh don't start on me Anya!" she snapped, angrily tightening her hold on my journal. "I already know your sob story. I was part of it, remember?"

"More like the one who caused it," I shot back. "I mean it Carol – give it back to me, and I swear I will not tell on you."

"Ha! As if Darcy would take seriously whatever you say, freaky Anne!" Carol countered. "The only ones who actually care of your existence are the Rosenberg woman and that old coot that came here last summer."

"Dont talk about him like that!" I snarled, a protective side of me demanding to defend Mr. Dumbledore.

Carol smirked.

"Hit a sore spot, haven't I? No Annie – I won't return this nicely. You'll have to _beg_ for it."

"Want me on my knees?" I said sarcastically. "Damn it Carol – just return the book and it will be like if nothing happened!"

"No Anya," she said quietly. "You already were on my way from the moment I saw you."

And then she ran.

I let out a frustrated sigh before starting to follow her. Although being skinny, Carol sure could make a lot of noise. Maybe it was the heels that made it.

Running and crashing into walls, I finally made it to where she had stopped – the kitchens.

Never on my life had I seen Carol walk in here. Darcy never let her come here at all, and if Carol was punished, she just dusted off the curtains on the matron's office. Something told me that the arrangement had changed though, because Carol somehow had found matches in one of the drawers at the top.

Lighting up the match, she held it on one of the corners of the journal. My heart dropped.

"Carol, don't do it!" I warned. "Whatever happened to you – this isn't the way to make it better!"

"Ah but Anya, this always has been fun! What changed?" her pouty face turned into a hateful scowl. "Just because you're going to a boarding school, it doesn't mean you have stopped being the freaky Anne I'll always hate. Now, I stay still. The show's going to start."

Gritting my teeth, I willed myself to try to walk over her and punch as she let the small flame burn the corner. I couldn't move though; ever since I arrived, I discovered that being near fire has left me on edge. I mean – my body had been on flames. Who could forget that easily?

Slowly, the fire began to spread upwards as if a small drop of water was rolling down, but upwards too. My eyes wanted to close as the red fire turned into a wild mess of flames – not even Carol could stand it more. She let the journal slip through her fingers, falling open on the floor with a loud _thud_. I watched as every doodle – _every_ thought and feeling I had poured in began to melt away in sickly beads of spent colors.

"Well, well – what've got here?"

Her sweet nasty voice made me turn at her. I felt myself pale.

Bending, Carol straightened up with the palm of her hand the small piece of black and white paper. My parents had stopped moving and just stood together, smiling at the camera widely with their arms around each other's waist.

"Oh Barton, you've already discovered who were the ones who abandoned you? How… _touching_."

"I – I really mean it Carol – give it back, please," I heard myself talking, the words coming out in a rush. My hands were sweating, and my knees were starting to shake badly. "I'll – I will not tell anything – whatever happened to you – I will even clean the mess the fire left! But please, don't –"

"Such kindness!" she crooned.

My lower lip trembled. Tears began to sting at the corner of my eyes as I realized that I was going to lose the only living proof that they had existed once. There was no Mirror of Erised to see them from time to time – all I had left were the engagement rings of my parents and that old photo.

"Carol – I will do anything –" I said thickly. "I will do everything you say, I will clean your room for you – I will let you do me tricks and I won't answer back. Just – please. _Give it back_."

Carol tilted her head thoughtfully, watching me as I nearly broke down in front of her. As I almost turned into the state she was a few minutes ago.

"Then beg for it – _kneel_ if you really want it back. Show me how much this worthless piece of paper is worth the sacrifice."

Closing my eyes in distress, I gave up. I let myself fall harshly on the floor, my knees scraping themselves on the wooden material.

"Please – _I beg you_."

The only sound I could hear was the clinking of her heels. Carol didn't talk for a while, making me worry about what she was doing.

"You know what Anya?" I finally heard her say. There was an edge on the way she spoke. "It really wasn't worth it."

With a last rueful smile, she let the photo float slowly towards my burning journal.

"NO!" I shouted, diving towards it. Just as my arm had shot to catch it, Carol had jumped and pushed me to the wall.

I was too late.

The photo of my parents wasn't difficult to disappear. Pieces on the middle began to disintegrate and turn into black ashes, the black and grey ink fading into nothing but torn pieces of paper.

Wide eyed, I just sat there on shock. My head was leaning against the wall, and from the corner of my eye, I could see Carol watching in grim satisfaction how the floor began to catch more fire.

_I hate you._

The words barely left my lips in a soft whisper when something I didn't expect happened.

Carol began to scream.

Drawers flew open with loud snaps and the silverware began to fall around us. Plates and glasses broke down in their places. And the small window surrounding the big kitchen began to crack, resembling spider webs.

I stood up on shaky knees, and I almost fell over if I hadn't put my hand to the wall for support. It was then that I realized why everything was breaking; the St. Louise's Orphanage was shaking.

Her blond hair whipped around as she turned to face me with a scared face.

"It's all your fault, you _freak_!" she spat. "Stop it! _STOP IT_!"

I wanted to tell her that even if I wanted to, I wouldn't know how. So I just settled by staring at her with a crazed expression and kept quiet.

Then I felt something hitting me harshly on the back of my head. Twirling around, I saw Marie holding a broom with her hands, ready to whack me again if it was needed.

"What did you do that for?" I yelled.

"Look," she said with a serious tone.

"No! Tell me why did you do it?!" I demanded angrily, nearly bringing out my wand to point it at her forehead.

"Look!" Marie repeated. "It stopped."

I stood still, my eyes darting to every part of the kitchen. A few things like the frying pans and some tablespoons were still wagging on their perches, but other than that, everything was calm.

The shaking had stopped.

As I was going to sag on the wall, a shriek and a loud _**POP**_ stopped it.

The shriek of course, belonged to Carol. But the reason was fairly reasonable.

Fuming, Natasha stomped over at us with a murdering expression. Her scarlet hair was tangled around her shoulders with a pair of misplaced hairpins. Pulling out her red wand, she pointed it at Carol.

"What the –"

"_Obliviate_."

Instantly, Carol's eyes slid out of focus, her pencil eyebrows nearly raised to her hairline, with a look of dreamy unconcern stretched on her face.

"Go to your room," Natasha said, "You never walked out of it –and wash yourself. You look pretty ridiculous. Don't come back until Darcy orders it."

Nodding absently, Carol turned and walked away, the soft clinking of her shoes signaling her exit.

Nat rounded on us.

"Now, you two! Up to the attic, and don't say anything until we're safe."

I nodded hastily. Marie just looked quite bored and started to walk ahead of us.

* * *

The moment we entered the attic, Natasha put the lock on the door and turned firstly to Marie.

"Everything you saw – you will not tell it to anyone. Is that clear?"

Marie nodded.

"And you –"

In that moment, the window opened and a tawny barn owl entered, carrying a letter with a purple M seal. Natasha paled and before she could grab it, the letter floated towards me – and began to talk.

"_Dear Miss Barton,_

_We have received intelligence that dangerous wandless magic was performed at your place of public residence at ten minutes past five this evening in the presence of two Muggles._

_As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C). _

_The use of wandless magic is unknown on a child of twelve years of age, meaning that there' probably an illegal usage of dark magic, therefore, your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 10 a.m. the twentieth of July to clarify the issue at hand._

_Until then, the Ministry of Magic has agreed to suspend you from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_Yours sincerely,  
Mafalda Hopkirk_

_Improper Use of Magic Office_

_Ministry of Magic."_

The letter then dissolved into small rotten pieces of parchment.

"Okay," Natasha let out a breath. "Okay, okay… listen up, you two! If officers of the Ministry arrive, you will stick with this story; Marie, you didn't see anything but just a mad girl and a crazy one fighting each other; Anya, you will say that you didn't know what happened –"

"I still don't know what happened!" I blurted out, but Nat appeared to not be hearing anything than herself. Passing her hand through her hair, she paced before us on loud strides.

"Shut it, Anne!" she snapped. "Just – stick to the story. I'm going to try and meddle with the Ministry of Magic and see if I can convince them that it had been just an accident, where you weren't aware of your actions – it's not like you damaged the place or something."

"Yes, you tell them that," Marie muttered, gazing at the only window in the attic. It had cracks on the glass too, as did the few furnishing we had.

* * *

When Natasha left, I surprised myself by walking over the other side of the attic, at the bottom in which everything was dark.

I sat down between a cardboard box and an old bookshelf. Somehow, this ended being the darkest corner of the room. I started to rock on my spot, my feet moving at the beat of a non-existing song.

How much more pathetic could I get?

Suddenly, music started to play, and with shock, I realized that the lyrics belonged to "_Holding out for a Hero_", by Bonnie Tyler.

From where was the music coming from?

"Music always soothes," said Marie's voice emotionless somewhere around the room.

Hearing a bit of shuffle, I could assure myself that I was left alone on this side. But by the time her footsteps faded, I was already crying. Tiny sobs made my body tremble from the effort of stopping them, and I just gave up. I let out my head fall onto my legs, hugging them as I bent my knees.

For the first time, I wasn't scared of the dark side of the attic.


	3. Seeking for Potter

The next day, the same barn owl from the Ministry of Magic arrived at first hour in the morning.

"_Dear Miss Barton,_

_After a high inspection was carried out at your neighborhood –"_ "When did that happen?" I murmured. _"– Ministry officers have verified that your lack of control of magic has nothing related to do with the dark arts. _

_The Ministry of Magic apologizes for whichever trouble our assumptions has caused. However, we would love to remind you that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy._

_Yours sincerely,  
Mafalda Hopkirk._

_Improper Use of Magic Office_

_Ministry of Magic."_

"These people are crazy," I said out loud, squashing angrily the envelope on my fists.

Letting out a long exasperating sigh, I sat down on my bureau. I leaned my forehead on the window, so I could be facing slightly the outside.

Twenty-four hours have already passed since the "earthquake incident", and it wasn't until the evening night that I could finally breathe on relief.

I don't know what Natasha had done or to whom she had talked to, but somehow she managed to stay true on her word; she fixed it all by herself.

Well, not _all_. Although her memory had been erased, Carol Davis kept glancing me all day with her watery eyes. Her body tensed every time I got inside a room, or when I walked near her. It was as if her body still remembered what I had done.

Marie had not spoken about the matter… _actually_, she didn't speak all day. Not that it was different from her usual routine, though.

The week went by, and before I knew it, it was already July 31st. I did not need my calendar to know that this day, it was Harry Potter's birthday.

I had written to him about the incident, knowing very well that he wouldn't answer back. I did not know if either be disappointed or relieved that I had the opportunity to let out all of my frustrations in an empty sheet of paper.

But now, being bored and tired and angry, I didn't know what to do. I tried doodling again for the broken mirror, but now, that left a bitter feeling inside me.

"Hermione," I groaned. "Or Ron. Hermione… _or_ Ron."

I don't exactly remember since when I started muttering their names, but I can tell it was a very long time ago. My hands had decided to work by themselves and had searched for parchment and ink, but I didn't know to whom I was going to write.

Muttering and muttering, I ignored as the door of the attic opened and closed. I was pretty sure it was Marie who walked in. No one else did aside from her and Natasha.

Her footsteps sounded closer as she went towards her own green hammock and sat comfortably in it. Not bothering to look up, I already knew she was staring at me with her vacant blue eyes.

"Who are Hermione and Ron?" she asked some time later. Tilting my head backwards, I pointed over at the photo of my friends in which we all were laughing.

"The redhead is Ron, the girl is Hermione."

"What about him?" said Marie, pointing at the spectacled boy between Hermione and me.

"He's Harry."

Marie hummed.

"I didn't saw you write much to him as you did the other two."

I turned my head away. "He hasn't been answering my letters."

"Do you know where he lives?"

I scowled, wishing that she just had remained silent as before. "Privet Drive or something."

"Isn't that across Magnolia Crescent?" said Marie in an oddly interested voice. I stopped moaning.

Raising my head from the cold glass, I looked back at her. Marie was resting on her hammock, staring at the ceiling with bored eyes. She was wearing a long sky blue shirt that reached to her thighs and an old pair of converse. Her black hair was tied into a ponytail, but her bangs covered half of her face.

"Why didn't I think of that?"

Quite disturbingly, the corners of Marie's mouth turned up into a sly smirk.

* * *

_Dear Anne,_

_You are not going to believe this. Today, Dad came looking like if he had heard a Banshee, and by what he told us, I wasn't wrong taking that assumption._

_Harry got himself a warning for using magic in front of Muggles! I can't believe he broke the number one rule. Not even Fred and George had done it; mind you, if Mum caught them, they would be in worst trouble than the Ministry coming to snap their wands._

_Speaking about the twins, we have been planning to get Harry to the Burrow. We're still on the stage of planning, so I can't assure you it will work._

_I've already wrote to Hermione telling her this, but I don't think she will answer until much later._

_I will write more about this later. Mum is outside knocking on my door._

_Ron._

* * *

Coming to halt, I let my leg balance the weight of the red bike. I started walking around, looking at each of the houses. Where did Harry live? I didn't remember the number of his Uncle's house, and I let myself curse silently.

A shiny black truck drove next by, honking his horn at me. I quickly moved up to the sidewalk before it could run over me. Narrowing my eyes at the driver seat of said vehicle, I almost let out a whoop of joy. It was Harry's uncle! I recognized the beefy man from the last trip St. Louise's had gone to.

Deciding to be subtle, I walked beside the bike, looking as if I was just resting from a long ride. In truth, I just wanted to run and run until I flew and landed on that car's roof. I threw away that idea by shaking my head – and by the fact that Harry's Uncle was driving on the opposite direction.

Making sure that the coast was clear from Dursleys, I let my bike lean against a neighbor's fence, coincidently where the larger bushes were. Casting quick look around, I began to jog down the street. The houses around here were so… _tidy_. Depressing. And all were the same color and structure.

No wonder why Harry spoke about this place as if it was hell; I already felt my mood turn gray.

I finally found Harry's house, spotting a blond fat boy snickering with his little band of friends. I immediately recognized rat boy from the Zoo trip.

I hid down their fence when they passed by, and gave a silent sigh of relief. Silently standing up from the grass, I started to make my way when the door once again opened, and a tall thin woman came out. She had blond hair and blue watery eyes, resembling very much those of her son. She also was carrying a hand purse with her, so I could only assume she was going out.

Harry's Aunt was a lot slower than her husband or son, and that made me annoyed. Couldn't the woman walk on heels? Because every woman who had the snotty air surrounding her always knew how to use them. I know because of the couples that often came to the Orphanage.

When she finally was at a safe distance away, I confidently walked out to the Dursleys' backyard. The place was nearly empty except for a small cellar on the back near the fence. Turning to look at the house, I let out a disbelieving, "Huh?"

On the second floor at the right, black bars had been placed on the solitary window.

"Harry, what did you do now?" I muttered concerned.

Grabbing a pebble, I pleaded to the Lord to hit on its target, because he and I know that I don't exactly have a good aim.

I threw it at the window – only to hit one of the bars and rebounding back at me. I squeaked, jumping sideways as the rock fell onto my spot. I knelt down to grab it again and threw it once more. This time, it did hit the window, but the rock got stuck on between the bars.

Scowling, I went to search for another one, but a sudden call stopped me.

"_Annie_!"

Standing straight, I looked up at the window, where a raven haired boy with green emerald eyes peered down at me happily.

"Harry!" I exclaimed, jumping up and down on the grass. "Thank God you heard me! I was starting to get worried I may have mistaken the house. How's the summer been? You haven't been answering my letters and Ron mentioned that you got a warning from the Ministry – what did I told you about getting into trouble –"

"Annie!" said Harry Potter again, interrupting my excited babble with a laugh. "You're rambling! I never thought I would see you act like that – but never mind, how did you get here?"

I stopped moving and beamed up at him.

"Remember that I told you that I lived on an Orphanage on Surrey? It's placed across Magnolia Road, where the old playground is. Mind you, I had to look into each house around here to know where you lived – I forgot your house's number. But thankfully, I saw that gorilla cousin of yours with his friends and I waited until your aunt went out and here I am!"

I said all of this on a rush, reminding me wildly of my bushy haired friend.

"I don't believe it," said Harry from his room. Disbelief shone on his face, and I saw that he was thinner than when I last saw him. "After all this time…"

"Why didn't you write back?" I said suddenly. "Do you know how much ink did I waste all this summer?"

"It wasn't my fault! It was Dobby's, a house-elf."

I frowned.

"Say what?"

Harry immediately launched into an explanation of what had been happening this summer. He said that he _did_ write to all of us, but our letters never arrived. It wasn't that the day of his birthday, a house-elf had appeared on his room and Harry discovered that the creature had been intercepting his mail. Apparently, something bad was going to happen at Hogwarts and Dobby had decided to play hero by making Harry think that he was forgotten by his friends so that he wouldn't want to go back. Because Harry stubbornly refused, the elf had made a cake float and crash on the wife of his Uncle's boss.

And like people would say, the rest was history.

* * *

_Dear Ron,_

_I spoke face-to-face with Harry, and you're not going to believe what I found out…_


	4. The Imperial March

_Dear Anne,_

_I got your owl. Pack your things, ASAP. We'll come for you tomorrow night, and then we'll go for Harry._

_Ron_

* * *

"Miss Rosenberg is not going to like this," Marie said unconcerned, as if she were just stating a fact.

_She may be right_, I thought wildly, grabbing all my things that had been spread around. Maybe I was overreacting, or maybe I was doing something rash.

But this was important. We were going to save Harry from his relatives, and I was offered the opportunity of going away from here on a silver plate. What else could I ask for?

"Miss Rosenberg isn't around to tell me off, is she?" I mocked back. "I'm going to spend my summer on Ron's house; I've already told her I was invited."

Just in case, I had written a note for her and placed it beside my bureau. I was escaping, but at least I wanted to keep in touch with her.

"Come on Otto," I said as I raised my arm. Otto came flying down a bit slower than before and he landed on my shoulder. Not that I minded much, but his claws were getting larger. If I remember it, I will ask Hagrid to help me cut them.

"We are going to take a fly."

* * *

"Are you sure this will work?" I whispered, looking between the redheaded boys sitting on the front.

From the rear-view mirror, I could see Fred and George Weasley grinning mischievously from ear to ear. Beside me, Ron, their little brother and one of my friends, looked a bit perturbed at the sight. I don't blame him; I felt the same way.

Mr. Weasley's turquoise Ford Anglia began to float slowly. Sweat rolled down my neck as the car began to "park" backwards in front of Harry's window. I gave a huge sigh of relief when they stopped.

Ron opened the window and leaned out carefully, twisting his arm through the bars of Harry's window and began to knock.

At first, we couldn't see anything, but then an incredulous Harry appeared in front of us and pushed the glass up.

"Ron, how did you - What the -?"

"The cavalry arrived," I said in a hushed tone, announcing myself to him. "I told you I would find a way to get you out."

"You hurt us Barton," said the twin on the driver's seat.

"What about those laborious hours in which we planned something up, risking in the process our lives," said the other redhead. I rolled my eyes. "Okay then, never mind. All right Harry?"

"What's been going on?" said Ron. "Why haven't you been answering my letters? Anne here gave us a vague answer, but I still don't understand. How's that a house-elf got you into problems with the Ministry?"

"It's a long story," Harry replied. "How did you know though? About the official warning –"

"Dad. He works for the Ministry. At first, I thought you did a spell outside school –"

"You should be talking," Harry said, eyeing the floating vehicle. I smirked.

"Oh, this doesn't count," Ron dismissed it by waving his hand. "We're only borrowing this. It's Dad's, we didn't enchant it. So – how come all of this happened?"

"It'll take too long to explain. Look, can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won't let me come back, and obviously I can't magic myself out, because the Ministry will think that's the second spell I've done in three days, so -"

"Oi," I interrupted. "Why do you think I am here with them? We're rescuing you, Wonder boy. Start packing your things."

"But you can't magic me out either –"

"We don't need to," Ron said, jerking his head toward the front seat and grinning. "You forget who I've got with me."

"Tie that around the bars," said the driver twin – which I am sure it's Fred –, throwing the end of a rope to Harry.

"If the Dursleys wake up, I'm dead," said Harry as he tied the rope tightly around a bar and Fred revved up the car.

"Since when do you worry about silly things?" I asked as Fred said, "Stand back!"

Harry did so, and with a crunching sound, the bars came free. Ron and I pulled them inside the backseat. There was no trouble with the lack of space; apparently, Mr. Weasley had expanded it along with the front seat and the trunk.

Fred reversed and pulled up as close to Harry's window as he could.

"Get in," Ron said.

"But all my Hogwarts stuff—my wand—my broomstick-"

"Where is it?" I asked.

"Locked in the cupboard under the stairs, and I can't get out of this room -"

"No problem," said George from the front passenger seat. "Out of the way, Harry."

Fred and George climbed catlike through the window into Harry's room.

"Hairpin," called George. Seizing one from my hair, I threw it at him. George luckily caught it with his hand, and he immediately started to work on the bedrooms lock.

"A lot of wizards think it's a waste of time, knowing this sort of Muggle trick, but we fell they're skills worth knowing, even if they are a bit slow," Fred said.

_Didn't I know that_. I learned to pick locks the year before Hogwarts, when Darcy started to lock me down in the basement as a daily routine. I only went out for food hunting and I would return; I never wanted my punishment to be prolonged.

There was a small click and the door swung open.

"So - we'll get your trunk - you grab anything you need from your room and hand it out to Ron and Barton," whispered George.

"Watch out for the bottom stair," Harry whispered. "It creaks."

One the twins disappeared downstairs, I climbed through the window and into Harry's room. It wasn't small, but there wasn't enough space either. There were shelves full of broken things like a PlayStation and one of those computers that had been very popular a year ago. This room didn't yell "Harry" at all; it just seemed pretty empty, although it was full of his cousin's crap.

I began to gather stuff that seemed useful and threw it back at Ron. Poor boy, I think he caught a pair of red underpants. I thanked the Lord that we were in the shadows, so at least the boys couldn't see me blushing about that. I mean – who in their right mind toss around their underwear?

As I carried more things, I did not find more surprises like that one. Harry had rushed around and grabbed more clothes, leaving nothing on its wake. Maybe he realized that I could find more embarrassing things of his.

When he was sure that he didn't leave anything else on his room, Harry disappeared after the twins and I climbed back at the car.

They came up later carrying Harry's trunk, with Fred sipping into the car, and lifting it up so Ron and I could pull it inside.

I heard a cough from inside the house, making me glance up at the door with a worried expression.

"A bit more," Fred said. "One good push –"

Harry and George gave a huge shove and the trunk went out the window and into the back seat with Ron and me.

"Okay, let's go," George whispered.

George climbed back in, but as Harry was climbing out the window, there was a screech behind him.

"THAT RUDDY OWL!" I heard a male voice yell from the house.

"I forgot Hedwig!" Harry exclaimed, returning back to his room.

"How could you forget your pet?" I said loudly as he returned and shoved the snowy owl's cage to me.

Harry was just about ready to climb out the window, when his door burst open. Harry's Uncle stood in the doorway and stared at us with a dumbfounded expression, and then the man let out a roar and dived at his nephew, grabbing him from the ankle.

Putting Hedwig's cage beside Harry's trunk, I went to help the twins and Ron by pulling Harry away from his Uncle's grip.

"Petunia! He's getting away! HE'S GETTING AWAY!" the man yelled.

We all gave a hard pull, and Harry fell between Ron and me. He reached for the door and closed it shut.

"Put your foot down, Fred!" Ron yelled, and the Weasley boy shoved down his foot with a sudden force that the car shot of like a Muggle rocket.

Harry quickly rolled down the window and looked back at his relatives. The night air whipped his hair back as he yelled, "See you next summer!"

I laughed with the Weasleys as he turned back to face us.

"Let Hedwig out," he said, his grin not disappearing from his face. "She can fly behind us. She hasn't had a chance to stretch her wings for ages." I leaned to where Fred and George sat and offered my palm up, waiting for one of them to return my hairpin. I worked with the lock, and a minute later, the beautiful Owl was soaring alongside us like a silent whisper of clouds.

"So - what's the story, Harry?" said Ron impatiently. "What's been happening?"

Harry repeated, this time with full details, about what happened with Dobby the house-elf. By the time he was finished, we all fell silent, pondering what exactly had the creature been referring to.

It was Fred and George who voiced our thoughts.

"Very fishy."

"Definitely dodgy" agreed George. "So he wouldn't even tell you who's supposed to be plotting all this stuff?"

"I don't think he could," Harry said, sounding a bit defensive on the elf's behalf. "I told you, every time he got close to letting something slip, he started banging his head against the wall."

Fred and George looked at each other.

"What, you think he was lying to me?" Harry asked.

"Well, put it this way—house-elves have got powerful magic of their own, but they can't usually use it without their master's permission. I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you coming back to Hogwarts. Someone's idea of a joke. Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?" Fred asked.

"Yes," said Ron and Harry. I snorted.

"Draco Malfoy guys? Really?" I shook my head. "He wouldn't have the brains to think that."

"He hates me!" Harry argued.

"So does Snape," I said calmly.

"Wait, wait – Draco Malfoy?" said George, turning around. "Not Lucius Malfoy's son?"

"Must be, it's not a very common name, is it?" Harry asked. "Why?"

"I've heard Dad talking about him. He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who," George said.

"And when You-Know-Who disappeared, Lucius Malfoy came back saying he'd never meant any of it. Load of dung—Dad reckons he was right in You-Know-Who's inner circle," Fred said, craning his neck around to look at Harry briefly.

"I don't know whether the Malfoys own a house-elf..." Harry said.

"They have enough money for it," I cut him. "Then again, Dobby could belong to another Wizarding family.

"She's right," said George. I immediately liked him better than his twin. "Mum's always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing. But all we've got is a lousy old ghoul in the attic and gnomes all over the garden. House-elves come with big old manors and castles and places like that; you wouldn't catch one in our house ..."

"I'm glad we came to get you, anyway. I was getting really worried when you didn't answer any of our letters. I thought it was Errol's fault at first –"

"Who's Errol?" Harry interrupted Ron.

"Their owl," I said.

"He's ancient. It wouldn't be the first time he'd collapsed on a delivery. So then I tried to borrow Hermes –" Ron said.

"_Who_?" Harry asked.

"The owl Mum and Dad bought Percy when he was made prefect," Fred explained.

"But Percy wouldn't lend him to me. Said he needed him," Ron said.

"Percy's been acting very oddly this summer," George said. "And he _has_ been sending a lot of letters and spending a load of time shut up in his room...I mean, there's only so many times you can polish a prefect badge...You're driving too far west, Fred." Fred turned the steering wheel to the east.

"So, does you dad know you've got the car?" Harry asked.

"Er, no. He has to work tonight. Hopefully we'll be able to get it back in the garage without Mum noticing we flew it," Ron said.

I raised my eyebrows. "Good luck with that, mate."

"What does your dad do at the Ministry of Magic, anyway?"

"He works in the most boring department," said Ron. "The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

"The what?"

"It's all to do with bewitching things that are Muggle-made, you know, in case they end up back in a Muggle shop or house. Like, last year, some old witch died and her tea set was sold to an antiques shop. This Muggle woman bought it, took it home, and tried to serve her friends tea in it. It was a nightmare - Dad was working overtime for weeks."

"What happened?"

"The teapot went berserk and squirted boiling tea all over the place and one man ended up in the hospital with the sugar tongs clamped to his nose. Dad was going frantic - it's only him and an old warlock called Perkins in the office -and they had to do Memory Charms and all sorts of stuff to cover it up -"

"But your dad - this car -"

Fred laughed. "Yeah, Dad's crazy about everything to do with Muggles; our shed's full of Muggle stuff. He takes it apart, puts spells on it, and puts it back together again. If he raided our house he'd have to put himself under arrest. It drives Mum mad."

"That's the main road," said George, peering down through the windshield. "We'll be there in ten minutes… Just as well, it's getting light…"

I looked outside the window; the sun was starting to rise out from the horizon. How I wished I had my journal with me –

The memory made me glance at Harry. If Dobby had intercepted our letters, did that meant that he hadn't read what I wrote back at him? It was probable, seeing as he wasn't eyeing me like if he were expecting me to explode.

"We're a little way outside the village," said George. "Ottery St. Catchpole."

The car flew down a bit lower, until the wheels touched the ground with a small squeak.

"Touchdown!" Fred exclaimed, and with a small bump, we finally hit the ground and the car stopped moving.

Harry and I looked out eagerly at the Weasley's lair.

The first floor looked like if it had been a small cottage but floors had been added until the place was several stores high. The building looked crooked as the ones on Diagon Alley did, and I would bet that it was also held by magic. There were five chimneys perched on the top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, **THE BuRRow**. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.

"It's not much," said Ron.

"Its wonderful," said Harry happily.

I shook my head. "Wonder boy just stole my words, but really Ron – your house's magnificent. Better than any I've seen before."

Ron blushed but shrugged off my word as he began to pull out Harry's things.

"Now, we'll go upstairs really quietly," said Fred as he opened the trunk and let me get out my things, "and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, `Mum, look who turned up in the night!' and she'll be all pleased to see you both and no one need ever know we flew the car."

"Right," said Ron. "Come on, Harry, Anne, I sleep at the - at the top –"

"What's the matter?" I asked him worriedly. Ron's face had turned an ugly shade of green, looking like if he was going to threw up right now. He was staring at something behind us, and I turned around to see what it was.

It wasn't a what. It was a red-haired plump woman that was marching toward us, scaring the chickens away with her dangerous stride and murderous expression.

The "Imperial March" from the Star Wars movies rang silently inside my head as she stopped before us.

"Ah," breathed Fred terrified.

"Oh, dear," said George delicately.


	5. Summertime at the Burrow

Should I pledge mercy for these unfortunate souls?

I couldn't help but snicker silently as the Weasley boys cowered under their mother's glare. They were taller than the petite woman, and yet, they seemed so small on her presence. It didn't help that she was wearing a flowered apron, with her hands on her hips.

"So," she started softly, looking at each of our faces. I felt a hand squeezing my arm tightly, and looking back, I almost laughed out loud at seeing Harry, the boy-who-lived, hiding behind me from the wrath of a mother.

Some hero he was, honestly.

"Morning, Mum," said George Weasley in a cheerful voice.

"Have you any idea how worried I've been?" Mrs. Weasley whispered softly. I closed my eyes at the apparent death sentence. It was _so_ good seeing someone else getting into trouble than yourself.

"Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to –"

"Beds empty!" the woman exploded. "_No note_! Car gone – could have crashed – out of my mind with worry – did you care? – never, as long as I've lived – you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy –"

"Perfect Percy," muttered Fred.

I looked at him in disbelief. His twin was a lot smarter, I realized right now.

"_YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK_!" Mrs. Weasley roared, prodding a finger in her son's chest. "You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job –"

Mrs. Weasley continued shouting at her three sons until her voice was hoarse. When she turned to Harry and me, I couldn't help but take a step back. As much as I had enjoyed it watching it, that didn't meant I wanted to get yelled at, too.

"I am very pleased to see you both, Harry and Anya," she said in a friendly way. "Come in and have some breakfast."

She turned to walk back into her house. Harry and I simultaneously turned to Ron, who after giving an encouraging nod, shoved us a little to start walking. Eating back my wariness, I decided to be the brave of all of us, because neither Fred nor George had moved from their fearful states.

The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle. The clock on the wall opposite had only one hand and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like_ Time to make tea, Time to feed the chickens,_and _You're__late._Books were stacked three deep on the mantelpiece, books with titles like _Charm Your Own Cheese_, _Enchantment in Baking_, and _One Minute Feasts — It's Magic!_ An old radio next to the sink was playing a song of Celestina Warbeck.

Mrs. Weasley was clattering around, cooking breakfast a little haphazardly, throwing dirty looks at her sons as she threw sausages into the frying pan. Every now and then she muttered things like "don't know what you were thinking of," and "never would have believed it."

"I don't blame any of you, dears," she assured us, tipping eight or nine sausages onto Harry's plate and moving to do the same with mine. "We already knew you would come Annie, dear, but Arthur and I have been worried about you, Harry. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you ourselves if you hadn't written back to Ron by Friday. But really, flying an illegal car halfway across the country – anyone could have seen you –"

She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background.

"It was cloudy, Mum!" said Fred.

"You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!" Mrs. Weasley snapped.

"They were starving him, Mum!" said George.

"There were bars on his windows!" Ron added.

"You best hope I don't put bars on your window, Ronald Weasley!" she exclaimed, pointing her spoon at him. Ron gulped as he seemed to think over it. "Care for a spot of tea, Annie?"

I blinked at the change of mood; it kind of reminded me of – well, _me_.

The sound of feet coming down the stairs called for my attention instead.

"Mummy, have you seen my jumper?" said the smallest of the Weasley Clan, Ginny Weasley. She was wearing a long pale blue nightdress. You would never see me wearing one of those.

"Yes dear, it was on the –"

Ginny seemed to finally notice our presence. Her blue eyes found me first, and travelling to my side, she saw Harry. The girl gave a small squeal and ran out to the stairs.

"Harry Potter, scaring little girls since '92," I muttered, gaining a snort from the Weasley twins. Harry shot me a dirty look and turned to Ron.

"What did I do?" he asked.

"Ginny. She's been talking 'bout you all summer," said Ron through a mouthful. "Dead annoying, really."

"Yeah, she'll be wanting your autograph, Harry," Fred said with a grin, but he caught his mother's eye and bent his face over his plate without another word.

"Morning Weasleys!" a voice called cheerfully.

"Morning Dad," all the boys replied. Mr. Weasley sat on the chair at the end of the table, taking off his glasses with a sigh. He was a thin man, going bald, but the little hair he had was as red as his children's were. He was wearing long green robes, which were dusty and travel-worn.

"What a night," he mumbled, groping for the teapot. "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned…"

Mr. Weasley took a long gulp of tea and sighed again.

"Find anything, Dad?" said Fred eagerly.

"All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle," yawned Mr. Weasley. "There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn't my department, though. Mortlake was taken away for questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that's the Committee on Experimental Charms, thank goodness…"

"Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" said George.

"Just Muggle-baiting," sighed Mr. Weasley. "Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it. . . . Of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking — they'll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it's staring them in the face. . . . But the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn't believe —"

"_LIKE CARS, FOR INSTANCE_?"

I jumped on my seat, dropping the delicious sausage I was biting into Harry's plate. He scowled. I looked mournfully down at it.

"C-cars, Molly, dear?" said Mr. Weasley with guilty eyes.

"Yes, Arthur, cars," said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes flashing. "Imagine a wizard buying a rusty old car and telling his wife all he wanted to do with it was take it apart to see how it worked, while really he was enchanting it to make it fly." Mr. Weasley blinked.

"Well, dear, I think you'll find that he would be quite within the law to do that, even if — er — he maybe would have done better to, um, tell his wife the truth. . . . There's a loophole in the law, you'll find. . . . As long as he wasn't intending to fly the car, the fact that the car could fly wouldn't—"

"Arthur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when you wrote that law!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "Just so you could carry on tinkering with all that Muggle rubbish in your shed! And for your information, Harry and Anya arrived this morning in the car you weren't intending to fly!"

"Harry? Anya?" said Mr. Weasley blankly. "Who are they –?"

He looked around, saw Harry and me, and jumped.

"Good Lord, you scared me! You must be Anya Barton," said Mr. Weasley fondly, shaking my hand and continuing talking. "A name I would never forget. Pleased to meet you. I knew your father since he was a student; he was a very intelligent man."

I smiled, but it seemed sort of fixed to me.

"And Harry Potter, you said? Very pleased to meet you, Ron's told us so much about –"

"Your sons flew that car to Harry's house and back last night!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "What have you got to say about that, eh?"

"Did you really?" said Mr. Weasley eagerly. "Did it go all right? I — I mean," he faltered as sparks flew from his wife's eyes, "that — that was very wrong, boys — very wrong indeed…."

"Let's leave them to it," Ron muttered to Harry us as Mrs. Weasley's face turned an angry red. "Come on, I'll show you both my bedroom."

We slipped out of the kitchen and up the narrow passageway to an uneven staircase, which wound its way, zigzagging up through the house. On the third landing, a door stood ajar. A pair of brown eyes peered through, and when Harry looked at them, the door closed shut.

"Ginny," said Ron. "You don't know how weird it is for her to be this shy. She never shuts up normally –"

"What did you to scare her, Potter?" I mused.

"Maybe you scared her," Harry shot back. I nodded.

"It would be true, if I had done something. I still haven't done something creepy though…"

It was a lie, but they didn't have to know that.

We climbed two more flights until we reached a door with peeling paint and a small plaque on it, saying **RONALD'S ROOM**.

We stepped in, and for a wild moment, I thought everything was in flames. I almost shrieked and started moving towards the door, but as I blinked several times, I noticed that everything was just orange. The bedspread with two black C's and a speeding cannonball, the space that hadn't been covered by posters of Ron's favorite Quidditch team, even the ceiling – which I noticed that my head was almost touching it.

"The Chudley Cannons," said Ron to Harry when he saw that he was watching the posters closely. "Ninth on the league."

Ron's books had been stacked untidily next to a pile of comics that all seemed to feature _The Adventures of Martin Miggs_,_ the Mad Muggle_. His wand was lying on top of a fish tank full of frog spawn on the windowsill, next to his fat gray rat, Scabbers, who was snoozing in a patch of sun.

"Your room's better than mine, Ron," I said enviously. "Even though it's this messy, I think I would love to stay up here."

"Even if it's a bit small?" he said uncertainly.

"Ron," I said seriously. "I have to live with spiders and rats. This is the most beautiful home I've seen."

"Your house is amazing, mate," Harry agreed, looking happily though Ron's small window.

Ron's ears turned pink at the compliments.

* * *

Living with the Weasleys was like being on Hogwarts; you never knew what would happen. I still remember what happened my first morning here…

_Yawning, I rolled up the sleeves of my old gray long-sleeved shirt. The stairs didn't creek as I came downstairs, but that was because I wasn't wearing any shoes. Rubbing my eyes as I went to the kitchen, I sat down silently, waiting for the rest of the residents to arrive. _

_Blinking and now looking around, I noticed a mirror on the kitchen mantelpiece._

"_Tuck in your shirt, smurf!"_

_I blinked. The mirror… the mirror just spoke to me…?_

_My head fell onto the table, my forehead hitting my own plate. I tiredly let out a snore._

There was a ghoul in the attic, above Ron's room, and it was always howling and dropped pipes when he seemed to think the house was quiet. Small explosions often shook the top rooms, but it was normal apparently, considering that they went off from the twins' room.

It had been decided by default that I would sleep in Ginny's room.

"I'm sorry for you," said Ron. "She's not going to shut up. _Ever_."

"Unless you let me bring Harry to the room. What do you say, Wonder boy?" I asked coyly. Said boy blushed and murmured for me to shut up.

It was true. Ginny Weasley was a force to be reckoned with. There was a first time in which it seemed she was too shy, but when you start to talk to her, you suddenly realize that looks can deceive. Her temper could rival that of her mother's.

There was only one reason why she acted suddenly shy, and that reason was Harry Potter.

The girl was obsessed with him. _What is his favorite color? Is there someone he fancies? Do you think he likes _me_?_

It was like the beginning of First year all over again, but Ginny was more tiring than all those fifth year students.

Harry, though, seemed a bit jumpy at the beginning of our stay. It was like if he didn't believe that the Weasley family was real; there were times when I had caught him staring at them too long, or either he would stop moving to watch as Mrs. Weasley fussed about his skinny body and served him more food. Harry was most bewildered when Mr. Weasley eagerly asked him to sit next to him and started asking questions about Muggles.

"_Fascinating_," Mr. Weasley said once Harry explained him how to use a telephone. "Ingenious, really, how many ways Muggles have found of getting along without magic."

But, honestly, I couldn't blame him. Life at the Burrow was a bit of a dream. I felt at ease as I moved around the house whenever I wanted. It was funny to try and play with the garden gnomes from the gardens (they looked a bit like ugly potatos), or walking around Mr. Weasley's garage with all his Muggle objects.

He somehow managed to get himself a bike, and together, we repaired it for me to use whenever I felt for a walk. _The bike back at the Orphanage had belonged to one of the employees._

For the first time since Hogwarts, I knew what it felt to be with a family.

* * *

It was nearing the end of the week that we hear from Hogwarts in a long time.

"Letters from school," Mr. Weasley said, passing Harry, Ron and I each identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. "Dumbledore already knows you're both here, Harry, Anne - doesn't miss a trick, that man. You two've got them, too," he added, as the twins ambled in, still wearing their pajamas.

The kitchen was silent for a few minutes as we all read our letters. The normal notice of getting to King's Cross Station to catch the Hogwarts Express on September first was there. Following was a list of the new books we'd need for the coming year:

**SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:**

_**The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two**__  
__By Miranda Goshawk_

_**Break with a Banshee**__  
By Gilderoy Lockhart_

_**Gadding with Ghouls **__  
__By Gilderoy Lockhart_

_**Holidays with Hags  
**__By Gilderoy Lockhart_

_**Travels with Trolls  
**__By Gilderoy Lockhart_

_**Voyages with Vampires**__  
__By Gilderoy Lockhart_

_**Wandering with Werewolves**__  
__By Gilderoy Lockhart_

_**Year with the Yeti**__  
__By Gilderoy Lockhart_

"You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too!" Fred commented, reading Harry's list over his shoulder. "The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan—bet it's a witch." But he caught his mother's eye and fell silent.

"Hermione mentioned him before…" I trailed off.

"That's because he's very famous," said Ginny nervously, peering down at her own list of books. "All the things he wrote – he all did it by himself."

"That lot won't come cheap," said George, with a quick look at his parents. "Lockhart's books are really expensive. . . ."

"Well, we'll manage," said Mrs. Weasley, but she looked worried. "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."

Ginny's face was crestfallen and I couldn't help but feel guilty, remembering all the money I had on my parents' vault on the deeps of Gringotts.

"Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked.

Ginny nodded whilst blushing, and put her elbow in the butter dish. No one noticed the small slip because Percy, one of the elder sons of the Weasleys, just walked in. the boy was already wearing robes, with his Hogwarts Prefect badge pinned to his sweat vest. From the few times I had seen Percy out of his room, I never saw him without it.

"Morning all," he greeted us briskly. "Lovely day."

Indeed it was a lovely morning. The sun shone brightly upon the Burrow and all the Gnomes could be seen merrily trying to climb the fence once more from the window.

He sat down in the only remaining chair but leapt up again almost immediately, pulling from underneath him a moulting, gray feather duster – which was breathing heavily.

"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under its wing. "Finally — he's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the Dursleys."

He carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again so Ron laid him on the draining board instead, muttering, "Pathetic." Then he ripped open Hermione's letter and read it out loud:

" '_Dear Ron, and Harry if you're there,_

" '_I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I've been really worried and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl, because I think another delivery might finish your one off._

" '_I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course'_ — How can she be?" said Ron in horror. "We're on vacation! — _'and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley?_

" '_Let me know what's happening as soon as you can. Love from Hermione.' "_

"How come she didn't mention you?" Ron asked me. I took a sip of my orange juice.

"Would you tell her that you broke a bunch of rules by merely slipping away from the pace you live?"

"Fair point," he shrugged.

"Well, that'll fit in nicely," Mrs. Weasley said brightly, starting to clean the table as she looked at us. "What are you all going to do today?"


	6. My name is Tom Riddle

I wasn't so sure about how we were going to Diagon Alley, but I did understand that it was like Apparating. That sure didn't help me relax at all.

Floo powder wasn't my favorite way of travelling, but it was more comfortable than Apparating. At least, I managed to get on the right place, Unfortunately, Harry didn't. The boy somehow landed on Knockturn Alley, which you could say was the favorite place to get anything related to dark magic. If it hadn't been for Hagrid, who know what would have happened.

I was with the Weasleys when we found him on the Gringotts' entrance, standing beside Hagrid the Gamekeeper at Hogwarts, and my best friend Hermione Granger.

"Harry! Hermione!" I yelled when I spotted them.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley said, panting. "We _hoped_ you'd only gone one too far..." He took out his handkerchief and mopped off his head. "Molly's frantic—she's coming now –"

"It's good to see you," said Hermione as she hugged me tightly.

"Ditto," I replied, earning a laugh from her.

"Where did you come out?" Ron asked Harry.

"Knockturn Alley," Hagrid said.

"_Excellent_!" Fred and George said at the same time.

"We've never been allowed in," said Ron enviously.

I shook my head as Hagrid said, "I should ruddy well think not."

After Mrs. Weasley and Ginny arrived, we all set to enter Gringotts' Bank, waving goodbye at Hagrid and telling Hermione to meet us later.

As we walked, the boys immediately glued themselves to the Quidditch shop's window, looking longingly at the new _Nimbus 2001_. It was shiny and black, with silver rings on the handle and the name was engraved on it with black ink. I made a face as I saw it, preferring last year's model.

Dragging them away wasn't easy, but Hermione and I made the boys go to get the rest of our supplies.

At some point, our final destination was Flourish and Blotts. There were a lot of witches and wizards crowding around the bookstore and it wasn't until Hermione squealed that I understood. A gold and brown banner had been stretched across the upper window, making witches swoon. Some of them were trying to make their way forcibly inside the shop.

_GILDEROY LOCKHART  
__will be signing copies of his autobiography  
__MAGICAL ME  
__today 12:30 P.m. to 4:30 P.m._

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione gushed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"

I raised my hand and waved sarcastically. "Yippee."

Harry and Ron were as happy as I felt. As we pushed through the crowd. A man outside was trying to unsuccessfully keep order, but he ended sprawled on the floor.

After snatching a copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_, I made my way where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were standing beside Hermione's parents.

"Oh, there you are, good," Mrs. Weasley said. She patted down her hair and said, "We'll be able to see him in a minute..."

I had to admit, as Gilderoy Lockhart came into view, he was handsome. Wearing forget-me-not blue robes that matched his eyes, he shot a dazzling smile at the crowd.

A very short, irritated man was dancing around everywhere, taking pictures with a large, black camera.

"Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ron. The photographer stepped on Ron's foot, making him bump into me.

"Hey, watch it!" I hissed.

"This is for the _Daily Prophet –"_

"Big deal," Ron growled. He was rubbing his foot while I rubbed my side.

Lockhart must have heard us because he looked up at Ron and me. He saw Ron—he saw me—and then he saw Harry. He then jumped to his feet and shouted, "It _can't_ be Harry Potter?"

The crowd all parted. Lockhart jumped from the table and grabbed Harry's arm. He pulled him to the front and everyone started clapping.

"Nice big smile, Harry," Lockhart said. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."

I rolled my eyes and gave Harry a smile when he looked over and Ron and me. I could have sworn I saw him mouth, _"Help me."_

I saw Harry try to make his way back over to us, but Lockhart pulled him back to his side.

_Flash!_ I kinda felt sick… could one man do that?

"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography — which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge —" The crowd applauded again. "He had no idea," Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made his glasses slip to the end of his nose, "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

I groaned as everyone around us clapped, the sound being muffled by the loud whistles the ladies gave.

"Who in his right mind gave him the post?" I said in disbelief. Ron looked like he wanted to hurl, but Hermione was jumping up and down on her feet. "I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Gilderoy Lockhart is going to teach us! Oh, how much we'll learn about how he did those things!"

I blocked out her voice, starting to look out for Harry.

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" we heard a voice yell. Instantly recognizing it as Ginny's, we tried to fight our way out of the crowd.

"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" it was Malfoy. Clutching our books, we arrived to see Ginny blushing furiously.

"Ah, does icckle Malfoy sad because he doesn't have one?" I teased right off. Malfoy stared at me coldly.

"Isn't that the Barton spawn?" he sneered. "What – making beeline for the job, Anya?"

"We should have known it was you," said Ron, looking at Malfoy like some ugly bug. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

Ron went as red as Ginny. He dropped his books into the cauldron, too, and started toward Malfoy, but Harry and Hermione grabbed the back of his jacket.

"Ron!" Mr. Weasley said, struggling over to us, "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well – Arthur Weasley."

It was a man who had to be Malfoy's father. He had platinum blonde hair like his son and the pointed chin and gray eyes that seemed to belong to the Malfoy family. Mr. Malfoy stood with his hand on Draco's shoulder, sneering in the same fashion as his son.

"Lucius," Mr. Weasley said, nodding coldly.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," Mr. Malfoy said. "All those raids… I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, an extremely old and battered copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration._

"Obviously not. Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Mr. Weasley turned even darker than either Ron or Ginny.

"There are different ways to disgrace a wizard's name," I countered angrily.

Malfoy Senior's eyes traveled to where I stood. For a long moment, he stared down at me with interest but then his grey eyes hardened.

"_Barton_…" he growled. "Just when one thinks one of your kin would never return again –"

"I would watch what I say to my niece, Malfoy."

My eyes widened as the familiar black trench coat came into view. Her red scarlet hair was tied neatly into a bun, with a few loose curls falling over her shoulder.

"Whatever you say to Anya," Natasha Rosenberg started with a glare, "say it to me. There are more on the family to insult instead of a little girl."

"Thea Rosenberg," said Mr. Malfoy with a surprised look.

The bookstore suddenly fell silent as words echoed on the small shop. People began to murmur and point to where Natasha was standing. Even Gilderoy Lockhart and his photographer were paying attention to us.

"Lucius," she said curtly with a smile.

"I thought you were dead along your family," he sneered. Natasha regarded him with a cold look.

"Just because I went MIA for twelve years, the Wizarding World didn't have a right to declare me dead," she snapped. "And now that I think of it, aren't you supposed to be behind Azkaban's bars? We clearly didn't get what we wished for."

Mr. Malfoy flushed. "How's Lupin then, Rosenberg? Has he finally decided to finish his suffer –"

A gasp went through the shop as Natasha slapped Mr. Malfoy on the face. The Twins could be heard whistling low as their father went to stand beside Natasha before she could do anything else.

"If I hear you talking like that again about my family, I'll make sure you pay for it," she whispered. "You know I can do it, Malfoy. That includes Anya's friends –"

"Just when I thought your family couldn't sink low as the Weasleys –"

Ginny's cauldron was sent flying. Mr. Weasley had thrown himself towards Malfoy and had knocked him into a bookshelf; books started falling above our heads and Natasha hauled me backwards to where the crowd was watching with avid interest. I shrieked when my books slipped through my arms, falling where the gentlemen were rolling. The Weasley twins were yelling at his father in encouragement, and Mrs. Weasley was trying to reach the fighting couple on the floor.

"Break it up, there, gents, break it up —"

Hagrid was wading toward the fighting man through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools.

Somehow, Mr. Malfoy had ended grabbing my Transfiguration book.

"Look at this girl," he spat at Ginny. "This is what a real book is. Not the trash your father gives to his family."

Eyes glittering with malice, he thrust it into my hands, making sure that I was thrown out of balance. A flashlight went out – it was the photographer from the _Prophet_. Beckoning to his son, the Malfoys swept out of the shop.

"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that — no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter — bad blood, that's what it is — come on now — let's get outta here."

"Come on," Natasha murmured, shoving me my cauldron to my hands. "Everything's already there."

We left the shop with a pair of frightened Grangers, a furious Mrs. Weasley, and a grim looking Natasha.

"A fine example to set for your children...brawling in public...what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought –"

"He was pleased," said Fred. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report — said it was all publicity—"

"What are you doing here?" I asked Natasha. She glanced down at me, but her eyes quickly returned to the road. A pair of whispering witches were pointing at her but Natasha – or Thea – didn't even glance on their way.

"Making sure you gave me your word," she said. "Escaping from St. Louise's without noticing me or Mrs. Darcy –"

"I was on a hurry," I muttered, looking at the trio walking in front of us.

"_That isn't an excuse_!"

"Well excuse me 'Natasha', but you weren't around to stop me," I snapped. "What gives you right on knowing my decisions? Does it have anything to do with the comment inside the bookstore? Or did you just blurt out that I was your niece for _pity_!"

She stiffened beside me and stopped short. I stopped as well, glaring up at her void face.

"You keep hiding a lot of things from me," I whispered angrily. My hands were shaking; a burning sensation entered my eyes but I ignored it. "I'm starting to get tire of that."

I turned on my spot, leaving Natasha – or Thea – behind.

Before we returned to the Leaky Cauldron though, I tossed over my shoulder a last comment.

"Whenever you feel like telling me the truth, you know where to find me."

* * *

I was organizing my books on Ginny's room, taking advantage of the redhead's absence. I wanted to be alone in the first place and she seemed to understand me. None of the other Weasleys or my friends had tried to speak to my after apparently witnessing my "fight" with Natasha.

When I pulled out _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2,_something fell to the ground. Frowning, I bent down to pick it up.

It was a black diary. Opening it on the first page, the words _T.M. Riddle_ in smudged black ink greeted me. I hadn't noticed it before. Maybe Natasha had grabbed it by mistake with all the scandal that happened.

Curious, I went page through page. The diary was empty, but I discovered it came from a Muggle shop because of the printed name on the back. I shrugged off the bad feeling I was having. It was just a diary. What damage could it do to write on it?

Borrowing Ginny's quill and bottle of ink, I dipped the quill on it.

I wrote my name and today's date under Riddle's name and flicked to the next page.

My eyes widened when words started appearing on the old page.

_**Hello. My name is Tom Riddle.**_


	7. A new Journey

"_My name is Anya Barton_…"

"…_**yes, I can speak to snakes…**_"

"_Really? Me too! But I realized that when I scared a few girls_…"

"_I lived on St. Louise's Orphanage for nine years. It's placed on Surrey_."

"_**I came from Wool's Orphanage, in London**_."

"_**I know what it feels like. The children being scared of what you can do…**_"

"… _I just know my parents' names because I asked Mr. Dumbledore to tell me_."

"_**You're lucky, you know. I didn't have the knowledge of my parents' identities until I turned sixteen**_."

"_There are times in which I get mad and everything suddenly turns into chaos. My magic doesn't seem to have a leash when my anger surfaces_."

"_**It's normal for people like us. Our power it's too wide for something as pathetic as a wooden stick to hold it…"**_

"… _**do you have any friends at Hogwarts?"**_

"_Yes. Hermione Granger, a Muggleborn; Ron Weasley and Harry Potter too, but we aren't that close to really call them my best buddies or something like that."_

"_**Tell me more about them."**_

"… _his parents were killed by Voldemort when he was one year old. He got the scar to show that the killing curse had bounced from him…"_

"_Everyone keeps comparing me to my mum and dad. I wouldn't mind much if I had known more about them, but we can't always get what we want."_

"… _**Voldemort was on the back of Quirrell's head? What did you do then…"**_

"_**It was the wisest choice, Anya. They were your own House mates and they should be supporting each other like a family… Me? I was Sorted to Slytherin…"**_

"_I guess that people like Malfoy or Voldemort just gave it a bad impression to all of us then. Salazar Slytherin sounds like he was more of a refined man than the obsessed lunatic with lineage like the books despite him…"_

"_**Appearances should not be important. What really define us are our actions, Anya."**_

"_I'm more skilled with Charms than Transfiguration. I have to say that Potions is my most dreaded weakness…"_

"… _**the teacher of my time, Professor Slughorn, was biased by your status or your skills. He would have been enchanted to have you on his collection…"**_

"_**Is there someone you fancy?"**_

"_Boyfriends are just a waste of time. And I still too young to really say I want one, Tom. What about you though? I bet you had a hoard of girls following you in your time."_

"_**Hmm… there was someone… but she's already gone."**_

"_I'm sorry."_

"… _**So I was."**_

"_I hated her with all my guts. I haven't done anything to her, and it was like if she already despised me from the moment she saw me. Carol Davis was a bit cuckoo if you ask me…"_

"_Natasha keeps hiding things from me. I don't know if everything she told me is a lie. I mean, how's that she suddenly admits – to a complete stranger – that I am her niece?"_

"_**You should be careful to who you trust. No one can be as understanding as your guardian was."**_

"_Psst! Natasha wasn't there most of the time! And besides, why do I care what everyone thinks about me when I have you with me, Tom? You're the only one that can really see through me."_

"_**I am flattered, Anya, but you should not spoke like that. What if I am not who I tell you to be?"**_

"_Tom, you are the only reason that keeps me attached to the real world. If I want to get a slap to return from my Wonderland, I know I can trust you to bring me back from it."_

* * *

"Since when have you been written on that book?"

I looked up with a raised eyebrow. Hermione had finally decided to return from her Gilderoy Lockhart's fantasy world and was staring at me with narrowed eyes. I smiled, not wanting to tell her about Tom.

"It's my new journal. I accidentally lost the one I had and I am trying to rewrite everything. I will have to apologize from this moment if I don't pay you any attention, though."

The words had rolled out from my tongue so smoothly that I had to look outside the compartment's window to not let Hermione see my shock. I knew I was a very good liar, but I wasn't _that_ good. I couldn't be…

"It's already ten minutes since we left King's Cross," said Hermione. "You said Harry and Ron were behind you?"

I rolled my eyes, closing Tom's diary with a loud snap. "Yes, Hermione. They were exactly behind me. "

"Then where are they?"

I shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe dueling with Malfoy or something…"

Before she could retort, the old witch that pushed the food trolley knocked and asked if we want anything. I jumped to my feet, ready to ignore anything Hermione had to complain about the boys.

Since I got Tom's diary, I had ignored Ron and Harry for the rest of the summer. My only sources of conversation were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and their daughter, Ginny. I had become very attached to her since she shyly asked me if she would be up to her brother's standards.

She was as insecure as I had been before I met Hermione on this same train. With a soft smile, I told her secretly how I got sorted into Gryffindor. Only she and Tom had the privilege to know such truth, and I trusted her to use wisely my advice.

"It doesn't matter where you can be sorted. Your family still will love you because they are going to be proud of you, but if it still doesn't convince you, you can always ask the Sorting Hat to place you on Gryffindor. Yes, it's a hat that sorts us, not a fight against a troll…"

Ginny in the end, had decided to sit on another compartment to try to live the full experience like her brothers did.

"Maybe I met my best friend on the way, just like you and Ron did," she joked.

Shaking my head fondly, I sat down next to the window, looking at the clouds above in the blue sky.

A tiny blue spot drew my attention, and as I narrowed my eyes I couldn't but wildly think of a car. Mr. Weasley's for that matter.

"I really need to slow down the candy," I whispered ruefully, looking down at the Fizzing Whisbee on my lap.

* * *

"Weasley, Ginevra!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Sorting hat had barely touched her head when the it decided her place. The Weasleys, Hermione and I stood immediately, clapping loudly for her and – in the twins' case – whistling for her. "That's my little sister!" I heard Percy said a few seats down the table.

With a grin, I moved to give her a space to sit, and gratefully, Ginny sank down on the wooden bench.

"I thought I was going to throw up," she said shakily. I rubbed her shoulder.

"Don't worry. It happens to all of us. Ask Neville here," I pointed at the round-faced boy sitting across me with Hermione. "He forgot to return the hat to McGonagall."

Ginny winced. "Sorry about that."

"I am used to it," sighed Neville.

Mr. Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, known for his awesome skills and wise – yet confusing words – stood from his throne-like chair and greeted us warmly with open arms.

"Welcome! Welcome to all the new and old faces on this hall. The summer has come to an end, but I hope you have not emptied your heads completely," he chuckled. "Mr. Filch, the caretaker, wish me to remind you all to not wander to the Forbidden Forest if you don't want to suffer a painful death – but do not let an old man's speech stop you from enjoying your stay. Let the feast begin!"

As flowers in full blossom, trades of food sprang up from the tables, looking as delicious as they did last year. I grabbed a bit of everything, and my favorite, apple pie.

Looking up at the staff table, I noticed that a chair was empty. There was no sight of our less favorite teacher, Professor Severus Snape.

I frowned, looking up and down to see if he had decided to sit elsewhere, but I came with empty results. Shrugging, I took my glass of pumpkin juice and gulped it down.

"Did you hear?" a voice whispered from the seats were Percy Weasley sat. "They say Potter and Weasley had been caught flying a car at school!"

I choked.

* * *

"It can't be true, it can't be true, they are not that stupid to fly Mr. Weasley's car at Hogwarts…"

I looked worriedly at Hermione, who was rambling here and there about the rumors that rang through the feast. The moment Snape returned, only to fetch Professor McGonagall and Mr. Dumbledore, we all knew that it had to be true. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had flown at Hogwarts in a Ford Anglia.

Hermione was still reluctant to accept the truth, though.

In a matter of time, we reached the corridor that lead to the Fat Lady's portrait. Two familiar shapes were standing in front of it, looking as the first time I saw them together: confused.

Hermione exclaimed, "There you are!" and started running towards them. Sighing, I followed at a more steady pace.

"Where have you been? The most ridiculous rumors — someone said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying car!"

"Well, we haven't been expelled," Harry assured her.

"Is it true, then?" I raised an eyebrow. Their sheepish expressions told me everything I needed to know. I sighed. "Why I am not surprised, Wonder boy?"

"Just skip the lecture and tell us the password," Ron said impatiently.

"It's wattlebird, but that's not the point –"

Hermione's words were drowned by the cheers of the Gryffindors as the portrait's door swung open. Arms reached through the portrait hole to pull Harry and Ron inside, leaving us to scramble in after them.

"Brilliant!" yelled Lee Jordan. "Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people'll be talking about that one for years —"

"Good for you," said a fifth year loudly.

Fred and George pushed their way to the front of the crowd and said together, "Why couldn't we've come in the car, eh?"

Rolling my eyes, I walked up to the girls' dormitories, an angry Hermione on my trail.

Honestly, it could only happen to those two.

* * *

"_They are a pair of idiots. If they couldn't pass through the barrier, then the only option was to send a letter to the school. Or to Mrs. Weasley."_

"_**Perhaps, there was someone who did not wish for your friends to arrive to Hogwarts at all."**_

"… _Why did I not think of that?"_

"_**You're too preoccupied for them Anya, is normal to not notice these small things until all the rush dissipates."**_

"_Yeah, you're right Tom. You're always right."_

"_**I'm glad I could help you."**_


	8. Lockhart's Day

Next morning was as gloomier as the ceiling of the Great Hall predicted. Dull and gray without clouds, I watched silently as the ceiling gave a small flicker of wind, making chills run up my arms.

With a muted sigh, I returned to Tom's diary, pointing with my pen at the rookie drawn figure to move five squares to the right. Immediately, Tom's Queen moved and erased my rookie. I didn't even bother getting angry; Tom was as smart as Ron in Wizarding Chess.

"Morning," said Hermione stiffly, not bothering to lower down her copy of _Voyages with Vampires_. Harry and Ron sat next to me instead of her, clearly not wanting to get a lecture from the bushy haired girl. Neville Longbottom however, greeted them cheerfully. I merely waved my hand at them, returning to my chess match. Tom already had eliminated my knight.

**_Checkmate_**, the words appeared neatly, sounding smug as the owner would probably look if I could see him.

"Mail's due any minute," Neville announced. "I think Gran's sending a few things I forgot."

As on cue, a pack of owls streamed in, circling the hall until they found their owners. I spotted Otto right away, seeing as he was the biggest bird of the lot – without counting Draco Malfoy' s eagle.

The old brown bird landed gracefully beside my plate, starting to nibble at a piece of bread I had prepared. I didn't saw any letter on Otto's leg and I felt a wave of sadness and resentment towards Natasha. Whatever the truth was, she clearly didn't want to tell me. But Otto did carry something else, and it wasn't a letter.

Undoing the knot, I grabbed the folded paper and stared at it. It was a copy of a newspaper; the _Daily Prophet_.

"**THEA ROSENBERG, NOT SO DEAD AFTER ALL."**

_Former Healer at _St. Mungos_, the woman who was officially declared dead at the McKinnon's Family massacre, suddenly reappears in public. Natasha Rosenberg, better known for her partnership with Damocles Belby to create the Wolfsbane Potion, was seen at _Flourish and Blotts_ in Diagon Alley during Gilderoy Lockhart's book-signing of his newest book, _Magical Me_. Miss Rosenberg was seen having a rather heated argument with Lucius Malfoy, member of the _Hogwarts Board of Governors_._

_The red-haired woman announced abruptly the blood-status of her niece, Anya Barton. As you all know, the Bartons were thought to be extinct since the last raid of Death Eaters, leaded by Auror Alastor Moody. Alexander Barton was killed by his cousin-in-law, Bellatrix Lestrange –_

I slammed down the newspaper, trashing the piece of paper on my hands and shoving it on my bag. I closed my eyes, resting the heels of my right hand on my forehead. Leaning into it, I couldn't help but let out a shaky breath.

What else was Natasha hiding? My father was killed, by his cousin! And it said in-law, meaning it was a familiar of my mother's. I quickly looked up, trying to find something to distract me.

A lumpy package fell on Neville's head, bouncing down to his lap. The boy eagerly opened it and found a few books – names as titles I didn't understand but I knew they were of Herbology because of the plant drawings on the cover.

A crash and the sudden warm feeling on my leg made me look over at the dynamic duo, distress showing on Ron's face when he saw the mess his clothes were on. Glancing down, I scowled, watching the milk jug wetting my gray skirt.

"Errol!" Ron gasped, pulling the bedraggled owl out by his feet. Errol slumped, unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a dampened red envelope in his beak.

"Is the poor bird even alive?" I asked, poking the owl on his stomach with the other end of my spoon. Hermione slapped my hand away.

"Oh no –" Ron groaned.

"Don't worry, he's fine," Hermione said as she gently prodded Errol with her finger.

"It's not that — it's _that_."

Ron was pointing at the red envelope. It looked quite ordinary like any envelope to me, but something on Ron and Neville's expressions told me that I was wrong on so easily taking that assumption.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

"She's — she's sent me a Howler," Ron whispered, backing away as if he were staring at a ticking bomb.

"You'd better open it, Ron," Neville advised in a timid whisper. "It'll be worse if you don't. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and," he gulped, "_it was horrible_."

I raised an eyebrow, looking between the pair of petrified faces.

"What's a Howler?" I asked slowly. I was ignored.

"Open it," Neville urged, watching as the corners of the envelope began to smoke. "It'll all be over in a few minutes —"

Ron stretched out a quivering hand, eased the envelope from Errol's beak, and slit it open. Neville promptly stuffed his fingers into his ears.

"_**RONALD WEASLEY!**_" A voice so familiar roared, making me topple back on my seat and move away from Ron. The letter sure had exploded, and instead, I found myself staring at what it looked like a floating mouth with white teeth and all that. Mrs. Weasleys yells filled my ears and I wanted to hide under the table until it was over, but my pride didn't let me.

"— _**STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE**_ —"

Her voice seemed to get louder at each word she uttered, so loud that plates and spoons started to rattle on the table, making all the sound echo deafeningly off the stone walls. Heads turned around to see from where all the ruckus came from. Ron already had san so low on his chair that I could only see his blushing forehead.

"— _**LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED**_ —"

I had wondered if Harry's name was going to be brought on, but Mrs. Weasley didn't add further to enlarge his obvious guilt.

"— _**ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED — YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME**_."

The howler suddenly floated to were Ginny sat, and said in a much softer tone, "_Oh, and Ginny, dear. Congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud_."

As its last act, the red envelope returned to face Ron, stuck out its tongue at him and the letter ended burning itself, the ashes falling on his food.

The voice was still ringing through my ears and I softly tapped them with my hands. I wanted to make sure I hadn't been left deaf.

After a few people laughed, everyone returned to their conversations. Hermione closed her book with a snap and looked down at Ron's hiding figure.

"Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you —"

"Don't tell me I deserved it," Ron snapped.

I was sure it was going to be the only time, but I was very glad at the moment of not having any family to yell at me.

And no. Natasha didn't count.

* * *

Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of dirt on her clothes and her arms were bandaged.

"Welcome to Greenhouse Three, Second Years," she greeted us warmly. "Today, we will be re-potting Mandrakes." I noticed Harry slip between Hermione and Ron. He had been held back by Gilderoy Lockhart a few minutes ago. "Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

To nobody's surprise, Hermione's well prepared hand was the first on the air.

"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," she said, her voice sounding as if she had recorded the information. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

Hermione almost hit Harry on the face with her hand again.

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," she said promptly.

"Precisely. Take another ten points," said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."

I shuffled on my spot to get a better look at the row of deep trays. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green, were growing there in rows.

"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.

There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy. I wasn't that lucky though.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are _completely_ covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right — earmuffs _on_."

Snapping my earmuffs into place, I made sure my ears were completely covered and was impressed at how well they shut out noise. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair on over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled, hard.

Just like the picture in our Herbology book, the roots of the Mandrake were in the shape of a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby with the leaves growing straight out of its head. It was pale green, and looked to be bawling at the top of its lungs.

Taking a large plant pot from under the table, Professor Sprout plunged the Mandrake into it, burying it in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. She dusted off her hands, gave us all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.

"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill you yet," the woman said calmly, as though what she'd just done was no more exciting than watering a house plant, "However, they _will_knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it's time to pack up."

"Now, four to a tray - there is a large supply of pots here - compost in the sacks over there - and be careful of the Venemous Tentacula, its teething."

Once finished, Sprout gave a sharp slap to a spiky dark red plant that had sneaked over her shoulder. As I turned around, I saw a tall Hufflepuff boy on my seat. Gritting my teeth, I almost went over to snap at him but instead, I whirled around and walked firmly to Neville's side.

* * *

Transfiguration's class was no easy subject and now that we all were in our second year, it was probable that it was going to be worse. Professor McGonagall gave us all a beetle to each and told us to transfigure it into a button.

It wasn't too difficult to transform it, but I had troubles with the appearance. Hermione already had four pairs of shiny black buttons on her bag and I only managed to turn two beetles into oversized circles and they weren't black; they had turned a very strange mix of golden brown with a bit of green.

Ron had keep muttering "I'm doomed," staring down at his wand, which had snapped whilst their little adventure with the Whomping Willow. The wooden stick was all covered by Spellotape, but unfortunately, it was too damaged beyond repair. It kept shooting off sparks and smoke came often from it.

By the end of the class, only Hermione had improved the Spell, with me a bit behind her, and Ron had killed his beetle. I think the only one who didn't walk out with a bad mood was Harry, who just made his bug scuttle all around his desk.

As we left for lunch, I got annoyed when Hermione showed us her now full bag of buttons of different colors. Ron seemed ready to leap at her, but Harry, being the Winder boy he is, asked immediately what our next class was.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once.

"Why," demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Snorting with laughter, I grabbed the paper from his hand and eyed it. Hermione had outlined all the small squares that said Defense Against the Dark Arts and under it, said Lockhart, with an O and two X's.

"Oh, I always knew madness could spread through the air," I snickered.

A funny clicking sound made me look from my conversation with Tom. We were just talking about embarrassing things that happened to us and he was finishing writing to me that the only times he made a fool of himself was in front of a single girl. Tom always mentioned a girl in the vast of our conversations, but he never said what her name was. The only thing I knew was that she was dead by now.

A boy with mousy brown hair and big brown eyes was peering nervously at Harry. He was clutching a Muggle camera tightly on his arms and his face turned red when he saw that we all had our attention on him.

"All right, Harry? I'm — I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly as he took a step forward. Harry unconsciously took one back. "I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think — would it be all right if — can I have a picture?"

"A picture?" Harry repeated blankly, looking at Creevey's camera suspiciously.

"So I can prove I've met you," the first year said. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead, and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move."

Nope, Colin didn't just disturb us with his knowledge. Not at all.

"It's amazing here, isn't it?" said Creevey letting out a shuddering breath of excitement. "I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic 'till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you" — he looked imploringly at Harry — "maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"

I could swear I was going to fall from holding in my laugh but a high-pitched cold voice echoed down the entire courtyard and stopped me before I could even bend over.

"_Signed photos_? You're giving out _signed photos_, Potter?"

Draco Malfoy stopped behind Creevey with his two bodyguard apes, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Everybody line up!" Malfoy roared to the crowd. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"

"Don't you have a life Malfoy?" I snapped. "Come on, get out of here! Nobody wants to see your slimy hair on daylight."

"Like if you were a sight for sore eyes Barton," he sneered. "But – what? Can't Potter fight his own battles? I bet being the boy-who-lived takes its toll."

Just as Harry was going to march up to him, Creevey said, "You're just jealous!"

"Jealous?" Malfoy snorted. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."

Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," said Ron angrily. Crabbe stopped laughing and started rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way. I already had pulled my wand from under my sleeve and was pointing it at the ground, not wanting to accidently hex anyone – except these three dunderheads. Tom had said it was the easiest way to be prepared for a fight.

"Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy. "You don't want to start any trouble or your mommy'll have to come and take you away from school." He put on a shrill, piercing voice. "_If you put another toe out of line_ —"

A knot of Slytherin fifth years nearby laughed loudly at this.

"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter," smirked Malfoy. "It'd be worth more than his family's whole house —"

"That's it!" I hissed, raising my wand and ready to hex him with everything I knew –

"Look out!" Hermione hissed, suddenly appearing beside me and shoving down my arm with her copy of _Voyages with Vampires_.

"What's all this, what's all this?" Gilderoy Lockhart strode into scene, his ridiculous turquoise robes swirling behind him like a shiny waterfall. "Who's giving out signed photos?" and he stopped behind me. Great.

Harry didn't even have a chance to speak as Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and jovially said, "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again Harry – and what's this? Ah, Miss Barton!"

To my utter horror, he slung his other arm on my shoulders and jostled me to his side, making the three of us quite ridiculous.

"Come on then, Mr. Creevey," said Lockhart with a dazzling smile. "A triple portrait, can't do better than that, and Harry and I'll sign it! Make sure to make another copy though, I'm sure Miss Barton's Aunt would appreciate such a modest gift from myself!"

"Who's Aunt?" I repeated, forgetting for a moment that Natasha was known as my "Aunt" by the whole Wizarding World. I blinked as a bright light flashed.

"Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle with the two of us. Right now, I wish I could do a Vanishing Spell.

"A word to the wise, Harry," said Lockhart paternally as we entered the building through a side door. "I covered up for you back there with young Creevey — if he was photographing me and Anya here, too, your schoolmates won't think you're setting yourself up so much…"

Deaf to Harry's stammers, Lockhart swept us down a corridor lined with staring students and up a staircase.

"Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of your career isn't sensible — looks a tad bigheaded, Harry, to be frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you'll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but," he gave a little chortle, "I don't think you're quite there yet."

I was glad to finally arrive at the classroom, and the moment Lockhart let go of us, I ran down straight to the back of the room. Soon, Harry joined me, but he hoisted up all of his Lockhart's books and pushed them in front of him, clearly hiding him from view.

The rest of the class came clattering in, and Ron and Hermione sat down on either side of us.

"You could've fried an egg on your face" said Ron. "You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club."

"Shut up," Harry groaned. Despite my earlier embarrassment, I managed to laugh at that.

"You're so lucky, Annie," said Hermione with a dreamy sigh. I eyed her for a second and moved my chair a bit away to the left.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of _Travels with Trolls_, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

A few girls giggled while the rest of the class either smiled weakly or sat in silence. A couple of seats on the front, Seamus Finnigan made a throwing up motion.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books — well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about — just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in —"

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes — start —now!"

I looked down at the paper and read:

_1) What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?_

_2) What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?_

_3) What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?_

The questions continued on for three pages, front to back, with the final question being:

_54) When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?_

"Must be a joke," I muttered, starting to answer each question at random.

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected our papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut – hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in _Year with the Yeti. _And a few of you need to read _Wandering with Werewolves_ more carefully – I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples – though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!"

I blinked at the man in disbelief. I had answered that his ideal gift would be wishing to have a brain. As Lockhart continued to talk, I felt like each word he uttered made me lose ten IQ points from my head.

"…but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions - good girl! In fact –" Lockhart flipped her paper over, "– full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione, who had been paying rapt attention and was startled to hear her name, raised a trembling hand to the air.

"Excellent!" Lockhart beamed. "_Quite_ excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so – to business –"

He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

"Now – be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

I leaned a bit. Was it true? After all, Lockhart wasn't the airhead he sounded like and was really going to give a class of DADA?

Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan stopped laughing. In the front, I could see Neville covering on his seat, he being closer to the cage than any other student.

"I must ask you not to scream," Lockhart said in a low voice. "It might – _provoke them_!"

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "_Freshly caught Cornish Pixies_."

Seamus couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.

"Well, they're not – they're not very – dangerous, are they?" he choked.

"Don't be so sure!" Lockhart said, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilishly tricky little blighters they can be!"

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them. They didn't seem too happy at all.

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!"

And the stupid man opened the cage.

Pandemonium was a word people will refer to our current situation. Chaos was closer to it.

The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air.

Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, up-ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out the smashed window; within minutes, half our classes were sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.

"Get off me!" I yelled, trying to grab the pair of pixies that were pulling from my hair.

"Stop! Stop – _hold still_!" I heard Harry yell from behind me. I stopped moving and the next moment, I saw a pixie being thrown over the wall.

"Thanks!" I sighed.

"Come on now – round them up, round them up, they're only pixies!" Lockhart shouted.

He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, _"Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"_

It had absolutely no affect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding a chair that was sent flying on his way.

The bell rang and all the class got out in a rush, squeezing between each other to make their way out. Just as Hermione, Harry, Ron and I were going to leave the room, Lockhart suddenly straightened up and pointed at us.

"I'll ask you four to just nip the rest of them back into their cage!" He swept past some flying pixies and shut the door of his office quickly behind him.

"Can you _believe_him?" Ron roared as one of the remaining pixies bit him painfully on the ear.

"That our supposed teacher just left us to fend off ourselves?" I exclaimed sarcastically. "Hell, yes!"

I dived under the desk, looking out for my bag and searching _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two_.

"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Hermione above me.

Shaking my head at her in disbelief, I started rummaging through pages, my eyes scanning word by word in the search of a helpful spell.

"_Hands on_?" Harry roared. "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing —"

"Rubbish," snapped Hermione back. "You've read his books — look at all those amazing things he's done —"

"He says he's done," I heard Ron mutter. "Stop hiding and help us out, Anne!"

"I'm already on it!" I yelled, not bothering to look from the book. "Stop twisting your knickers – HERE IT IS!"

I jumped out of my hiding place, pointed my wand at the air and bellowed, "_Immobulus_!"

A blue light shot from my wand and hit the air like some sort of electric wall. All the pixies on the room froze, floating aimlessly as their eyes flashed around. Those who could, glared down at me as I beamed at my friends' stupefied faces.

A sigh made us all look up at the ceiling. Neville was still hanging on the chandelier by the back of his robes. He stared down at us with defeated eyes.

"Why is it always me?" he said.

* * *

"_Dear Tom, Gilderoy Lockhart must be a crackpot. The man set loose a cage of wild Cornish Pixies to children who didn't know how to defend themselves. And then he ran away! I mean – who the hell does he think he is?"_

"_**It seems that this Lockhart man you talk about isn't telling the truth at all. From what you've told me before about his books, I can only assume he stole these heroic acts from other people, or perhaps he invented them. It's clearly a lie that he didn't stop the curse of a werewolf**__."_

"_That's the same conclusion I came to. But that's not what I really wanted to say."_

"_**It's that so**__?"_

"_Remember that I told you I thought my mother was killed by Voldemort. I discovered today that my father's assassin was a woman named Bellatrix Lestrange. She's related to me apparently."_

"_**I know**__."_

"_How?"_

"_**Let me show you**__…"_


	9. Blind

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked worried. She eyed me as I rubbed my face and let out a yawn.

"Just peachy," I muttered, scooping up a spoon of cereal. I cringed at how bitter it tasted. "I reckon I'll probably get a cold, though."

"Then don't wait until it arrives. I can go with you to the Hospital Wing, if you want."

I shook my head. "Nah. I'll go later." Hermione shot me an exasperated look. "I _will_. Promise, _really_. Let's go and catch up with Ron. Practice must have already started."

* * *

"Aren't you finished yet?" said Ron surprised as Harry flew at us.

"Haven't even started," the dark-haired boy said, eyeing the toast and marmalade both Hermione and Ron brought. "Wood's been teaching us new moves."

Rolling my eyes, I pulled out two muffins and showed them to him. As lightning, Harry's arm shot upwards, catching the chocolate bread I tossed at him.

"I know you far too well for your own good, wonder boy," I teased. Harry smiled.

"Thanks Annie!" he mounted his broom and took off.

Smiling, I turned to look at the rest of the Quidditch team. Some minutes later, I glanced over to see Hermione staring at me, a weird smile playing on her lips.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," she replied, looking over at the pitch. The smile didn't leave her face.

A clicking sound filled the air, making me frown up at the upper stands. Colin Creevey's shrilly voice rang out.

"Look this way, Harry! This way!"

Ron snorted in laughter as Hermione "awed" at the scene. I watched in amusement as the team watched Harry stare annoyed at the first year.

"Oh, oh. Trouble in paradise," Ron hissed, jumping at his feet.

"Can't be good," I agreed, watching as the Slytherin team walked upon the grounds. The Gryffindors were already making their way towards the enemy.

As we neared them, I heard one of the older Slytherin boys hiss, "Ah look! A _field invasion_."

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what's _he_doing here?"

My eyebrows knitted into a frown as I saw Draco Malfoy wearing the Slytherin Quidditch robes.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

I grimaced as I saw all the Slytherins showing off their shiny black brooms. I didn't even need to look out for the logo to know they were the newest _Nimbus 2001_'s.

"Good, aren't they?" Malfoy gloated. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to _buy_ their way in," said Hermione sharply. "_They_ got in on pure talent."

I smirked as the smug look on Malfoy's face disappeared.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little _Mudblood_," he spat.

My eyes flashed. I heard every Gryffindor turning mad, Alicia Spinnet shrieking, "How dare you!", Flint putting himself between the little piece of shit and the Weasley twins and even Ron pulling out his wand.

"You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!"

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

I was torn between helping him and hexing Malfoy as Hermione and Harry knelt before him. A slight burning started on my eyes, my head feeling a bit heavy, like if it just wanted to sleep.

But watching Malfoy laugh his ass off stopped any coherent thought.

My faithful wand already had slid itself down my palm. As the Slytherins laughed, as the Gryffindors watched in disgust how Ron puked out slugs, none of them noticed as I neared closer to Malfoy. A small satisfied smile flickered across my face when I saw him on the ground on all fours, banging down his fisted hand on the grass. He was all defenseless.

"You asked for it, you know," I told him, pointing my wand to his head.

"_Flipendo_!"

Malfoy was knocked onto his back. He had stopped laughing.

"Who do you think you are?" he growled, starting to stand. "You filthy Blood traitor!"

"SHUT UP!" I roared. His jaw clenched shut. Malfoy tried to speak, but it seemed to me that he was gritting his teeth. I grinned. "That's better. Guys, go," I said to Harry and Hermione, both already having wrapped each an arm on Ron. "I'll see you at Hagrid's."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, looking at me with worried eyes. I nodded.

"Positive. Go!"

With one last look, my friends ran out of the pitch, with Colin Creevey on their trail.

"You are going to pay for that," said the Flint bloke. I turned my head towards him.

"Just like you lot will," I snarled, raising my wand to him. "Expelliarmus!"

He easily blocked the spell, sending a silent spell toward me. A red light hit me on the face and I suddenly felt too _hot_. I opened my mouth, but instead of curses, blood started fall out.

My eyes widened. All I could see was _red_. I bent over as more blood began to pour down into my hands.

I heard the Slytherin team laugh as Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson kneeled in front of me. Another hand started rubbing my back, but I didn't notice them. I was staring at Flint. He had used a curse. _Dark magic_, the words echoed on my head.

Tom had once offered to teach me how to use them without losing my head off. I told him thanks – but _no_, thanks. Although, that didn't stop him from showing me one.

_**In case of emergency**_, he advised.

With that in thought, I weakly pushed Bell and Johnson out of the way. Grasping tightly my wand, I weakly raised it.

"_Oculus Convertere Caecus_," I hissed.

The effect was instant. Flint howled and doubled, blinking madly as he shook his head.

"My eyes!" he exclaimed. "I can't _see_!"

For the icing, I turned to Malfoy and said, "Diminuendo."

Not waiting to see Malfoy shrink on the spot, I jumped to my feet and marched off to Hagrid's hut.

* * *

"Blimey Ann! Wha' the 'ell happened to ya?" Hagrid asked, letting me walk into his home. Judging by how Ron returned to throw up on the wooden bucket on his hands, I could tell I didn't look presentable at the moment.

"Why do you have blood all over your robe?" Hermione gasped, looking a bit green herself. The only ones who didn't seem to react badly at my appearance were Harry and Hagrid.

I hesitated to answer. Should I admit and tell them that I lost control? That, not for the first time, my anger had won me over? And that I had used a dark spell on Flint?

"I fought for a friend," I said instead. From her spot, Hermione smiled weakly at me. I returned the gesture back.

"'ere you go, Ann'," Hagrid handed a damp towel to clean my face.

I murmured my thanks and went to seat by Harry. The huge red spots on the cloth made me think that I probably looked like I vampire.

"What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Givin' me advice on getting' kelpies out of a well," Hagrid growled. "Like I don' know. An' bragin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

I looked up at him in surprise. Hagrid _never_ spoke ill of a teacher; he held too much respect for them.

Hermione, trying to defend her idol, said in a voice that sounded higher than usual, "I think you're being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job —"

"He was the on'y man for the job," said Hagrid, offering us a plate of treacle toffee, while Ron coughed onto his basin. I politely declined, feeling the urge to spit out more blood.

"An' I mean the on'y one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now. So tell me," said Hagrid, jerking his head at Ron. "Who was he tryin' ter curse?"

"Malfoy called Hermione something — it must've been really bad, because everyone went wild."

"It was really bad," I said, scowling into my towel as I felt more blood come out through.

Emerging over the tabletop, Ron nodded. He looked very pale and sweaty.

"Malfoy called her 'Mudblood,' Hagrid —" Ron said hoarsely before he dived out of sight again, puking out more slugs.

"He didn'!" he growled at Hermione.

"He did," she said. "But I don't know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course —"

"It was worse than rude!" I growled. "No one should use that term. Is highly offending to call someone like that. I would not even call my worst enemy a _Mudblood_ –" I mocked the last word.

"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of," gasped Ron, coming back up. "Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born — you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards — like Malfoy's family — who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood." He gave a small burp, and a single slug fell into his outstretched hand.

As he threw it on the basin, I said, "That's how I met Malfoy. He just took a look at me and said, 'I bet you're a Mudblood'," I bristled. "Not the greatest of greetings."

"The rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all," Ron said, "I mean, look at Neville Longbottom — he's pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up."

"An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can' do," said Hagrid proudly, making Hermione go a brilliant shade of red.

"It's a disgusting thing to call someone," said Ron, wiping his sweaty brow with a shaking hand. "Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It's ridiculous. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles we'd've died out." He retched and ducked out of sight again.

"Well said," I crossed my arms. "Now, let's go an convince all the Purebloods that they're nuts."

"Well, I don' blame yeh fer tryin' ter curse him, Ron," said Hagrid loudly over the thuds of more slugs hitting the basin. "Bu' maybe it was a good thing yer wand backfired. 'Spect Lucius Malfoy would've come marchin' up ter school if yeh'd cursed his son. Least yer not in trouble."

"Say that for yourself," I muttered. Harry narrowed his eyes.

"What do you mean by that?"

I waved my hand, the other keeping still the amp towel over my mouth. "Doesn't matter. You'll probably hear about it later."

He didn't look so convinced, but took a bite of Hagrid's treacle toffee.

"Harry," said Hagrid abruptly as though struck by a sudden thought. "Gotta bone ter pick with yeh. I've heard you've bin givin' out signed photos. How come I haven't got one?"

I snorted in laughter.

"I have _not_ been giving out signed photos," Harry said furiously. "If Lockhart's still spreading that around —"

"I'm on'y jokin'," Hagrid said, patting Harry on the back, which made him go face first into the table. "I knew yeh hadn't really. I told Lockhart yeh didn' need yeh. Yer more famous than him without tryin'."

"Bet he didn't like that," Harry said, rubbing his chin.

"Don' think he did," Hagrid said. "An' then I told him I'd never read one o' his books an' he decided ter go. Treacle fudge, Ron?" he asked.

"No thanks," Ron said weakly. "Better not risk it."

* * *

"There you are, Potter, Weasley," said Professor McGonagall as she walked over at us.

"You will both do your detention this evening."

"What will we be doing, Professor?" Ron asked.

"_You_ will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch," she said. "And no magic, Weasley—elbow grease. And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail."

"Oh n—Professor, can't I go and do the trophy room, too?" Harry asked.

"Certainly not," McGonagall said. "Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o' clock sharp, both of you. Oh, and Miss Barton, you should come to my office."

I closed my eyes in distress. Just what I needed. Oh Tom, what did you got me into?

* * *

"There are several witnesses about this morning's little performance," McGonagall said. I scowled.

"All Slytherin, I presume."

The Professor stared at me sternly.

"Yes, but not only them. The Gryffindor Quidditch team saw you have a row against Flint."

"Do you even know why I did it?" I snapped.

"Miss Barton, you were cursing one of his fellow House mates -"

"Yes, and I'll do it again. Malfoy called Hermione a Mudblood. I think he got what he deserved."

I fell silent under her glare. Taking a long breath, McGonagall took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Mr. Malfoy's actions weren't the most reasonable. But seeing as he didn't attack you, I am afraid I can't punish him."

"What about Flint, then?" I jumped immediately at chance of getting trouble for the older Slytherin. "He cursed me, too."

"I am aware of that," said the woman, narrowing her eyes until they looked cat-like. "Professor Snape already has arranged his detention for using a dark curse. I should do the same."

I turned sharply at her, sitting upright on the comfy chair of her office.

"The spell you used," she started slowly. "It was erased from books for a reason. The spell was mainly used to severely maim the opponent, created from Dark magic - darker than the hex Mr. Flint used. I'm going to ask you one time, Miss Barton," McGonagall looked directly at my eyes. "How did you get wind of that knowledge?"

I looked at her silent. My eyes were wide and unfocused; the world felt too dizzy for some reason. I didn't want to tell about Tom; he was like a dear family friend to me. If McGonagall - or the Lord forbid it, Mr. Dumbledore - knew that I had a book that could talk by itself, they would take him from me.

_Oh __no_. I wasn't going to let them take Tom away. He was much more important than everything I had.

"I read it," the words once again rolled out of my mouth without trouble as I stared down at my lap. My hands were twisting themselves again. "Found the book at _Flourish and Blotts_."

I looked up with a vacant look.

"What's my punishment, then?

* * *

Professor McGonagall thought it was better for me to go to the Hospital Wing first. Apparently, the curse Marcus Flint had used on me was more dangerous than the one I did. "Vacuum Dolor" was supposed to cause internal slow bleeding, weakening the wizard-or-witch to death. But to Madam Pomfrey's surprise (and mine's too), I wasn't _that_ injured. She only made me drink a blood replenishment potion and I was fine. The Matron nearly had a heart-attack, thinking she would probably had to sent me to St. Mungos.

To my misfortune, I seemed to be the one who cause much more damage than the Slytherin. Snape had strutted in, demanding to McGonagall to expel me from Hogwarts and snap my wand on a half.

"Really Severus," said the stern-looking woman with a scowl. "As I told him before, Mr. Flint will be alright for the next Quidditch match. The blindness will only last forty-two hours."

"I wouldn't be so sure," he sneered. "Don't you remember _who_ her mother is? What _her_ _brother_ did?"

"That's enough!" McGonagall barked at the moment he said 'her brother'. "Miss Barton is not her parents. Stop comparing her to them, Severus Snape!"

In the end, I just got detention for the rest of the month. Flint, however, got off easy because he was a Quidditch player. Even though he couldn't see my reaction, Flint smirked at me in triumph.

I wished I could've cursed him to death.

* * *

_"... and he just go off! All because he's a "valuable player for Slytherin", according to Snape."_

**_"It's unfair for you, Anya. Not many people would stand up for a friend the way you did. I'm proud of you."_**

_"That somewhat consoles me, Tom. The spell you showed me - again, thanks for that. It was very useful, although it got me in a few troubles."_

**_"Tell me Anya. Do you wish for Flint to pay for what he did to you and your friends?"_**

_"... I'm listening."_


	10. The Start of the Game

Humming merrily, Anya made her way to the Girls' bathroom on the second floor. The place was usually lonely because of its dead resident. Moaning Myrtle. Although all the girls pitied her, Myrtle was annoying as hell, making her a lonelier. And besides, it was strange to everyone that she haunted a toilet.

Toilet which Anya found herself staring down at.

To steer Myrtle away from her home, Anya had paid Peeves with a package of Filibusters - courtesy of Filch's office. Delighted to have gotten both a pranking item and someone to prank, Peeves had bowed low and with a loud cackle, he disappeared out of sight. Not long after that, portraits and suits of armor leaned forward to watch as the poltergeist threw the Wizarding fireworks after Moaning Myrtle, who floated away in tears to somewhere else.

"Open," Anya ordered. To her surprise, the sink behind her began to glow. White light surrounded the tap as it started to spin and the sink moved; it sank behind the wall, leaving on a sight a large pipe, big enough for a man to slid into.

Scrunching up her nose, Anya carefully put the diary inside her robe and lowered herself into the pipe. Grabbing the sides to hold her body, she sent a last look into the darkness before closing her eyes, and let go. If it had not been a serious matter, Anya would have laughed. To her, it felt like one of those endless slides she once saw in a t.v. show from the states. The girl, however, sobered when she remembered why she was doing this. It was for duty, not to enjoy stupid children games.

Finally, the pipe leveled out and before she could be shot out, Anya abruptly raised her hands and in that exact moment, she grabbed hold of the sides, her feet dangling a meter from the ground.

Jumping down, the hazel eyed girl stared around her, trying to ignore the unpleasant musty smell of the cave. She must be underneath the school, deeper down than the dungeons. Her robes were covered in slime but Anya shrugged away the urge to gag. She had deal with worse than slim, even the blood could be considered as the only substance that could really disgust her fully.

Pulling out her wand from under her sleeve, she muttered, "_Lumos_," and a blue faint light came from the tip.

"Disgusting," she hissed, looking around all the kind of bones scattered on the dirt. She groaned when her foot made contact with a very particular thick skull and had to remove it with her own hands.

Anya walked through a lot of bends, each similar to the ones she had walked before. If it hadn't been for Tom's precise descriptions, she would have gotten lost a lot sooner.

But finally, she came to another bend and found herself staring at a solid wall. There were two intertwined snakes carved on the stone, emerald stones replacing what should be their eyes.

For a moment, Anya hesitated. Was this what she really wanted to do? Tom didn't exactly tell her what would the consequences be, too engrossed on her anger against Flint and Malfoy to ask if it was dangerous.

What would her friends think of her right now? Hermione would be scandalized about it, Anya was sure; to have gone too far, just because she wanted revenge. There was high possibility that Ron would point at her with a sneer and call her traitor and Slytherin scum; after all, the boy was tactless as hell. And Harry... Anya knew that he would be mad, disgusted and won't talk to her... but he mostly would be disappointed. Suddenly, all the familiar faces appeared in front of her; Hermione, Harry, the Weasleys, Mr. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Malfoy, Natasha, Marie, Mrs. Darcy, even Carol Davis. All of them were staring at her, pointing, eyes void as they called her, "Monster." Carol, mostly, was grinning and mouthing, "I told you, I told you."

She bristled. The image disappeared from her eye's mind and she once again was staring at the emerald eyes of the snakes. _They wouldn't understand_, said a voice similar to Tom's, _it's not like if they had to endure the judgments of people_.

A nasty scowl appeared on Anya's face and she spat the word 'open' at the wall.

The emerald gems glinted on the darkness, the wall cracking open and the snakes separated.

Walking inside, Anya saw that she was standing in a very long chamber. Fire had spread from the walls and for a moment, she thought she would leap out of the room, except that when Anya saw the green flames, her body seemed to relax by itself. A small sigh left her lips and she started walking down the long corridor. Statues of snakes seemed to be holding the long ceiling, the pillars casting frightening shadows on the marble ground.

Once she drew at level with the last pillars, Anya cracked up her neck in curiosity. Standing against the back wall, was a huge statue of a head. The face was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard which seemed to be floating around like a halo as did the long - probably shoulder length - hair.

Anya drew out the black diary from her robes and started to write with her wand.

_I am here. What do I do next?_

_**Are you sure you want to do it, Anya? Once it's done, there's no way back. Nothing is going to be the same for you, and all wish of a normal year will be long gone.**_

The twelve year-old girl smiled at Tom's concern and wrote back, ignoring that her choice would cause not only the pain of others, but a great change on herself.

_I trust you Tom. Just tell me what to do._

* * *

I woke up with a small groan. My body ached as if I had done some heavy exercise. Rising from the comfy bed, I stretched my arms together, a relieved sigh leaving my mouth when a 'POP' sounded on the silent dormitory. Opening my eyes fully, I pushed the curtains of my bed away and stared at all the sleeping girls. Lavender was a mass of tangles in her bed, moving to her right or to her left, an annoyed expression always on her face; Parvati was smiling, her hands neatly folded under hear head; Faye, the only normal girl here, had her arms crossed across her stomach, her chest rising gently as she breathed; and finally, Hermione, who seemed to barely have awoken.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully. I grunted in response and moved to stand up. When I looked down, I found my white sneakers covered in mud, my robe next to them. With wide eyes, I looked up at Hermione - who was busy as she started to grab her clothes - and I kicked them under my bed.

"Annie, are you alright? You look pale," said Hermione.

"That's my skin color," I retorted. She rolled her eyes.

"You're paler than normal. Didn't you go to Madam Pomfrey?"

"I did. But I was treated for different reasons."

"Oh," Hermione looked ashamed. "How did that end? What did Professor McGonagall told you?"

"Got detention for a month in the Hospital Wing, and guess what? Flint just got a week! And Malfoy - Oh, don't let me start on him - ACHOO!"

I grimaced when I pulled my hand away and saw a small spurt of blood on it.

* * *

"A deathday party?" I laughed incredulously. "You seriously agreed to go to one of those?"

"I think it is going to be fascinating," Hermione gushed, hugging her copy of _Year with the Yeti_ to her chest. "Not many living people get to go."

"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" said Ron, who was halfway through his Potions homework and grumpy. "Sounds dead depressing to me..."

"Sir Nick, obviously," said Harry. "But that means we'll miss the feast though.

"Yeah, and we—wait, what?!" said Ron, whipping to face Harry with a look of absolute horror on his face. "We're missing the feast?!"

"You," I pointed at the three of them. "Will be missing the feast and go to the deathday party."

"The invitation also was extended towards you," Harry pointed out.

I smirked. "I have detention. Either way, I miss the feast. But don't worry Ron," I patted his arm. "I'll grab something on my way for you."

The red-haired boy groaned and hit his head on the table.

* * *

With the roosters' blood, Anya started to paint with one hand a long line. The crimson substance made her stomach hurl, but the cloth on her mouth prevented the smell to get through her nose. She had to stand on her tiptoes to start writing above and let some space to write down. Soon, the long lines started to get form and finally, a message was left.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN

OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

A bit dramatic for her taste, but Tom had suggested it to make some kind of impact. Anya didn't know what this meant, but she learned to not ask. As long as those who hurt her and her friends were punished, she would be satisfied.

What she didn't like though, was the mess the monster had made. In order to get out of Salazar Slytherin's chamber, it had gone through the pipes and unfortunately, broke one and water had started to spread down the floor.

SPLASH!

Anya whirled her head, only to gasp when she spotted Mrs. Norris lying face down on the water, not moving at all. Perturbed about the cat's fate, she slowly made her way towards the caretaker's pet.

_It's not dead_, a male voice inside her head said. _Merely petrified. Hang the cat to the torch's bracket, please. By the tail, if you must_.

Shrugging, she gently took the pet on her arms and relief shot through her as the words sank in. Norris wasn't dead, just petrified.

But how were they going to reanimate her? Anya mused.

_Do not worry about that. Just do it, the teachers will find a way._

Raising herself, Anya carefully placed cat's tail around the bracket and slowly let go.

Beaming, she skipped around the corner, knowing that the feast already had ended by now.

". . ._rip. . .tear. . .kill. . ._"

"Shh!" Anya hissed, hitting the wall with her fist.

"... _soo hungry... for so long...__ kill... time to kill..."_

"_Shhhh!_" Anya flattened her hands against the wall of bricks. She lowered her mouth to a near crack and started to talk. "_Don't be so loud! They're going to hear you, we don't need that._"

The monster stopped talking. With a smirk, Anya started to walk towards Gryffindor Tower, the voice of Draco Malfoy yelling, "_Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods_!"

It was music for his ears.

* * *

"Annie!" Hermione's voice shrieked. "Annie! Wake up!"

I pulled out my pillow and hid my head underneath with both hands. Soon, the warm blankets were being pulled abruptly from my body.

"Wha?" I grumbled.

"At least I know you're alright," said Hermione wryly. I raised my head slowly, peering at her through narrowed eyes. Her hair looked like it was all over her head, mostly resembling an afro. Her honey-brown eyes were wide and a bit disoriented. But most of all, her hands seemed to be shaking.

"What happened exactly?" I drawled. Hermione sat on my trunk, petting a sleepy Otto on the head.

"Yesterday night, Harry heard a voice. It wasn't the first time though, he had heard it on his detention with Professor Lockhart before. But no one but him can't hear it, Annie. After Sir Nick's party, he started saying someone was going to commit murder and -" she took a deep breath. "- then we found Mrs. Norris hanging in a corridor. It was horrible!"

By the time she had ended saying this, I was already sitting straight, the sleep and the tiredness long gone.

"And then? Hermione, speak!"

Her lip trembled at my sharp tone.

"There was blood on the wall. I-it said, '_The chamber of secrets has been opened_._ Enemies of the heir, beware_'. Oh, Annie! I read about it somewhere and I know - I know who the enemies are!"

I watched her, stunned. "How?"

"Draco Malfoy said, 'You'll be next, Mudbloods!'," she sobbed. "Annie, that means -"

"That someone is starting a Muggleborn hunt," I said, my tone showing the dread she was feeling.

How did this happen? Why didn't I notice? I was out there! In the corridors, I should have seen something! Even the smallest of shadows.

Pondering this, I could only share a terrified look with Hermione, both feeling useless.

* * *

_"Tom... something happened yesterday... where I was?"_

**_"Anya, you were in the hospital wing, writing to me about how your friends went to that deathday party."_**

_"... are you sure? I mean - I don't remember last night. Everything is kind of fuzzy -"_

**_"I'm sure. Don't worry. By the way, you should clean your robes, you told me they got a bit... wet."_**


	11. Watching from the sidelines

I had the unfortunate luck to met Filch in the same corridor Mrs. Norris had been "petrified", gaining another detention because, apparently, I looked _too_ "happy".

That was mistaken though. As days went by, my skin color considerably paled, making me resemble a ghost - or as Ron said, "You look like hell!"

More like I went through it.

Each time I pass _that_ corridor, a knot of guilt started to form in the pitch of my stomach. But the other feelings - the satisfaction I felt as I watch the others students murmur between each other; the urge to laugh arrogantly at the lack of brains in Hogwarts - they made me feel disgusted at myself. Then, there were the lost gaps of memory - I am suddenly writing to Tom and the next second, I am waking up in my bed.

Ginny Weasley though, was more perturbed than she let anyone see. According to Ron, she was a cat lover.

"But you haven't really got to know Mrs. Norris," Ron told her bracingly. "Honestly, we're much better off without her." Ginny's lip trembled. "Stuff like this doesn't often happen at Hogwarts," Ron assured her. "They'll catch the maniac who did it and have him out of here in no time. I just hope he's got time to Petrify Filch before he's expelled. I'm only joking —" Ron added hastily as Ginny blanched.

Scowling in aggravation, I grabbed Tom's diary and hit Ron on the head.

"_Blimey_ _Anne_!"

* * *

Since her small lapse, Hermione had tried to do everything in her power to search about the Chamber of secrets. The boys and I often found ourselves in the library to keep her with company. Although I was more around her because she said that Muggleborns probably were the ones in danger. What if we didn't keep an eye on her and she got herself hurt?

Either way, that girl was getting on my nerves. Hermione was trying to raid the whole library each day we came, and if it hadn't been for the classes, I bet anything we would be camping here under Harry's invisibility cloak. The boys were confused and often tried to get an answer out of her, but Hermione was adamant to tell until she found out what she wanted.

Wednesday of next week wasn't so different of the last days.

"Dunno why you care. I thought he was a bit of an idiot," Ron was saying as he tried to finish his essay of _The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards_ that Binns had left us since two days ago. Harry had just told us about Justin Finch-Fletchley's reaction when he saw him moments ago. I actually agreed with Ron on this one, seeing as I wasn't a fan of the Hufflepuff's attitude.

"All that junk about Lockhart being so great —" Ron grumbled, trying to make his writing as large as possible. At that moment though, Hermione came into view, looking as irritable as I felt about my last gap of memory.

"All the copies of _**Hogwarts, A History**_ have been taken out," she said, sitting down on the chair next to mine. "And there's a two-week waiting list. I _wish_ I hadn't left my copy at home, but I couldn't fit it in my trunk with all the Lockhart books."

I looked away, feeling guilty about not telling her that _my_ copy was under my bed as she spoke. As much as I wanted to lend it to her, something inside my head told me not to.

"Why do you want it?" Harry asked, genuinely looking concerned about Hermione's mad expression.

"Same reason as anyone, I expect," I told him, looking down at Tom's diary. "To read about the Chamber of Secrets," I added helpfully, seeing the boys' confused expressions.

"What's that?" Harry said sharply. I shrugged.

"That's just it. I can't remember," Hermione said , biting her lip. "And I can't find the story anywhere else —"

"Hermione, let me read your composition," said Ron desperately, checking his watch.

"No, I won't," said Hermione with a scowl. "You've had ten days to finish it —"

"I only need another two inches, come on — Anne help me out here!"

"Sorry mate, I don't want my head cut off."

Rolling my eyes, I followed the bickering couple.

"Either those get married, or I'll kill them myself," I muttered, causing Harry to choke back a laugh.

* * *

History of Magic was the dullest subject on our schedule. Professor Bins, who taught it, was our only ghost teacher, and the most exciting thing that ever happened in his classes was his entering the room through the blackboard. Ancient and shriveled, many people said he hadn't noticed he was dead. He had simply got up to teach one day and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staff room fire; his routine had not varied in the slightest since.

Today was as boring as ever. Professor Binns opened his notes and began to read in a flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class was in a deep stupor, occasionally coming to long enough to copy down a name or date, then falling asleep again. He had been speaking for half an hour when something happened that had never happened before. Hermione put up her hand.

Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed.

"Miss - er -?"

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," Hermione said in a clear voice.

Dean Thomas, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance; Lavender Brown's head came up off her arms and Neville Longbottom's elbow slipped off his desk.

Professor Binns blinked.

"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with _facts, _Miss Granger, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk snapping and continued, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers -"

He stuttered to a halt. Hermione's hand was waving in the air again.

"Miss Grant?"

"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"

Professor Binns was looking at her in such amazement, I was sure no student had ever interrupted him before, alive or dead.

"Well," said Professor Binns slowly, "yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peered at Hermione as though he had never seen a student properly before. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale —"

But the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns's every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. I could tell he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.

"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see...the Chamber of Secrets..."

"You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago — the precise date is uncertain — by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."

He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued.

"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."

Professor Binns paused again, pursing his lips, looking like a wrinkled old tortoise.

"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing.

"Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic." There was silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn't the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns's classes. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more.

Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed.

"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible." Hermione's hand was back in the air.

"Sir — what exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?"

"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.

The unexpected satisfaction came back. With everyone continuing to ask questions, nobody noticed me as I tightened my hold on Tom's diary. I unconsciously lowered my head, my chin touching my collarbone.

* * *

"I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony," Ron told Harry, Hermione and I as we fought our way through the teeming corridors at the end of the lesson to drop off our bags before dinner. "But I never knew he started all this pure-blood stuff. I wouldn't be in his house if you paid me. Honestly, if the Sorting Hat had tried to put me in Slytherin, I'd've got the train straight back home..."

Hermione nodded fervently, but Harry didn't say anything.

"It's not the old man's fault that his pupils had ended being maniacs," I said fervently, wanting to redeem Tom from all those snakes. "People like Malfoy and Voldemort just put the House into a bad image, that's all."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Right, whatever you say, Anne."

I put my hands on my hips, walking in front of him. "What would have you done if either of us had ended there, Weasley?"

Gaping and turning red, Ron opened his mouth to retort but Colin Creepy's - sorry, Creevey - appearance stopped him.

"Hiya, Harry!"

"Hullo, Colin," said Harry automatically.

"Harry — Harry — a boy in my class has been saying you're —"

But Colin was so small he couldn't fight again the tide of people bearing him toward the Great Hall; we heard him squeak, "See you, Harry!" and he was gone.

"What's a boy in his class saying about you?" Hermione wondered.

"That I'm Slytherin's heir, I expect," said Harry glumly.

"People here'll believe anything," Ron said in disgust. My mouth curled, wanting to snap at him that he would be the first of the lot to believe that if he weren't his friend.

The crowd thinned and we were able to climb the next staircase without difficulty.

"D'you _really _think there's a Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," Hermione said, frowning deeply. "Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs. Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be - well - human."

A pair of yellow eyes came into my memory, and I waved away the image.

We turned a corner and found ourselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened. We stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message 'The Chamber of Secrets has been Opened.' My hands suddenly started to itch and I swallowed back the urge to scratch them against my robes.

"That's where Filch has been keeping guard," Ron muttered. The caretaker however, wasn't around to yell at us.

"Can't hurt to have a poke around," Harry said, dropping his bag and getting to his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues. He almost looked like a dog the way he was crawling around.

"Scorch marks!" he said. "Here - and here -"

"Come and look at this!" Hermione said. "This is funny..."

Harry got up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.

"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" said Hermione wonderingly.

"No," Harry said, "have you, Ron? Annie? Guys…?"

When Harry looked over his shoulder, I swiftly turned my head to the side, trying to pull Ron's hand away from my arm.

"What's up?" Harry asked us, looking between the two of us.

"I - don't - like - spiders," Ron said tensely as I said quietly, "Me neither."

"I never knew that," Hermione said, looking at us surprised.

"Yes, that isn't exactly a thing you tell on a conversation," I muttered.

"But, you've both used spiders in Potions loads of times..."

"We don't mind them dead," I said as Ron was carefully looking anywhere but at the window. "I just don't like the way they move..." He added unhelpfully.

Hermione giggled

"It's not funny!" Ron and I snapped. "If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my — my teddy bear into a great big filthy spider because I broke his toy broomstick...You wouldn't like them either if you'd been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and..." He broke off, shuddering.

"I prefer them all dead and twitching, thank you very much," I snapped, but not adding further explanation. The memory of Carol's gang playing that joke on me still haunts me in my nightmares.

Hermione still looked like she was trying not to laugh. Thankfully, Harry changed the subject. "Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone's mopped it up."

"It was about here," Ron said, recovering himself to walk a few paces past Filch's chair and pointing. "Level with this door."

He reached for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand as though he'd been burned.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"Can't go in there," said Ron gruffly. "That's a girls' toilet."

"Oh, for the Lord's sake!" I moved around him, turning the doorknob abruptly. The OUT OF ORDER sign flew and hit the wood as I pushed the door open and then shoved the red-haired boy inside. Ron made a disbelieving soun in the back of his throat, but I didn't care. "Nobody has come here in ages..."

"Except for Moaning Myrtle," said Hermione following behind with Harry.

It was the gloomist, most depressing bathroom I'd ever set foot in. Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror were a row of chipped sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light give off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wood doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.

Hermione put her fingers to her lips and set off toward the end stall. When she reached it she said, "Hello, Myrtle, how are you?"

Harry, Ron and I followed her. Moaning Myrtle was floating above the tank of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin.

"This is a _girls' _bathroom," she said, eyeing Harry and Ron suspiciously. "_They're _not girls."

"No," Hermione agreed.

"But we wanted to show them how nice it's here. Don't you think?" I asked her, waving my arm around the place and my tone suggesting sarcasm.

"Ask her if she saw anything," Harry whispered behind me.

"What are you whispering?" Myrtle asked, glaring at him.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly, stepping back. "We wanted to ask -"

"I wish people would stop talking behind my back!" Myrtle cried in a voice choked with tears. "I _do _have feelings, you know, even if I _am _dead -"

"Myrtle, no one wants to upset you," said Hermione. "Harry only —"

"No one wants to upset me! That's a good one!" howled Myrtle. "My life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along ruining my death!"

"We wanted to ask you if you've seen anything funny lately," said Hermione quickly. "Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door on Halloween."

"Did you see anyone near here that night?" said Harry.

"I wasn't paying attention," Myrtle said dramatically. "Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to _kill _myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I'm - that I'm-"

"Already dead," Ron said. I slapped him on the head.

Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose up in the air, turned over, and dived headfirst into the toilet, splashing water all over us and vanishing from sight, although from the direction of her muffled sobs, she had come to rest somewhere in the U-bend. Grimacing down at my damp clothes, I spoke.

"That actually was cheerful coming from her."

"Come on," Hermione said. "Let's go."

Harry had barely closed the door on Myrtle's gurgling sobs when a loud voice made all four of us jump.

"RON!"

Percy Weasley had stopped dead at the head of the stairs, prefect badge agleam, an expression of complete shock on his face.

"That's a _girls' _bathroom!" he gasped. "What were _you_ -?"

"Just having a look around," Ron shrugged. "Clues, you know -"

Percy swelled in a manner that reminded me of Mrs. Weasley.

"Get - away - from - there -" Percy said, striding toward us and starting to bustle us along, flapping his arms. "Don't you _care _what this looks like? Coming back here while everyone's at dinner -"

"Why shouldn't we be here?" Ron said hotly, stopping short and glaring at Percy. "Listen, we never laid a finger on that cat!"

"That's what I told Ginny," Percy said fiercely, "but she still seems to think you're going to be expelled, I've never seen her so upset, crying her eyes out, you might think of _her, _all the first years are thoroughly overexcited by this business -"

"_You _don't care about Ginny," Ron said, his ears now reddening. "_You're _just worried I'm going to mess up your chances of being Head Boy -"

"Five points from Gryffindor!" Percy said angrily, fingering his prefect badge. "And I hope it teaches you a lesson! No more _detective work_ or I'll write to Mum!"

* * *

The trio and I chose seats as far as possible from Percy in the common room that night. Ron was still in a very bad temper and kept blotting his Charms homework. When he reached absently for his wand to remove the smudges, it ignited the parchment. Fuming almost as much as his homework, Ron slammed _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 _shut. To my surprise, Hermione followed suit.

"Who can it be, though?" she said in a quiet voice, as though continuing a conversation we had just been having. "Who'd _want _to frighten all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?"

"Let's think," Ron said in mock puzzlement. "Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum?"

"Ah, that's pretty obvious," I muttered.

He looked at Hermione. She looked back, unconvinced.

"If you're talking about Malfoy -"

"Of course I am!" Ron said. "You heard him - _'You'll be next, Mudbloods!'_ - come on, you've only got to look at his foul rat face to know it's him -"

"Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?" Hermione said skeptically.

"Look at his family," Harry said, closing his books, too. "The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin; he's always boasting about it. They could easily be Slytherin's descendants. His father's definitely evil enough." I hummed softly, thinking back to Halloween.

"But that would be too obvious, don't you all think?" I asked. "And besides, that git would be boasting around. Malfoy can't keep his mouth shut, even if his life depended on it."

They shrugged.

"They could've had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries!" said Ron. "Handing it down, father to son. . . ."

"Well," said Hermione cautiously, "I suppose it's possible. . . ."

"But how do we prove it?" said Harry darkly.

"There might be a way," said Hermione slowly, dropping her voice still further with a quick glance across the room at Percy. "Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We'd be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect —"

"If, in a month or so, you feel like explaining, you will let us know, won't you?" said Ron irritably.

"All right," said Hermione coldly. "What we'd need to do is to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions without him realizing it's us."

I turned slowly to look at her. She wasn't serious, was she?

"That's impossible," Harry laughed.

"No, it's not," Hermione argued. "All we'd need would be some _Polyjuice Potion_."

"You must be desperate," I said bluntly. She glared at me.

"What's that?" said Ron and Harry together.

"Eh, Snape mentioned it in class a few weeks ago—"

"D'you think we've got nothing better to do in Potions than listen to Snape?" muttered Ron. I rolled my eyes.

"It transforms you into somebody else. Think about it! We could change into four of the Slytherins. No one would know it was us. Malfoy would probably tell us anything. He's probably boasting about it in the Slytherin common room right now, if only we could hear him."

"This Polyjuice stuff sounds a bit dodgy to me," said Ron, frowning. "What if we were stuck looking like three of the Slytherins forever?"

"It wears off after a while," said Hermione, waving her hand impatiently. "But getting hold of the recipe will be very difficult. Snape said it was in a book called _Moste Potente_ _Potions_ and it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library."

There was only one way to get out a book from the Restricted Section: You needed a signed note of permission from a teacher.

"Hard to see why we'd want the book, really," said Ron, "if we weren't going to try and make one of the potions."

"I think," said Hermione, "that if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance..."

"Oh, come on, no teacher's going to fall for that," said Ron. "They'd have to be really thick..."

I raised my eyes slowly, finding Harry having the same reaction as me. A slow smile curved into his face and I felt mine do the same.

"We are in luck; the airhead is just around the corner," I grinned. "So, who wants to act for Lockhart's next play?"


	12. Living on a Lie

Ever since his first class' failure, Lockhart had decided to make us act parts of his books in front of the entire classroom. Today was no exception, and as he had done the first time, Lockhart immediately chose Harry to play. I still laugh at the memory of him being a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head cold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart "dealt" with him.

Today though, Harry was howling as a werewolf. I wonder why Creevey doesn't appear in times like this.

"Nice loud howl, Harry — exactly — and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced — like this —_ slammed_ him to the floor — thus — with one hand, I managed to hold him down — with my other, I put my wand to his throat — I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm — he let out a piteous moan — go on, Harry — higher than that — good — the fur vanished — the fangs shrank — and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective — and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."

The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet.

"Homework — compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of _Magical Me_ to the author of the best one!"

The class began to leave. Harry returned to the back of the room, where Ron, Hermione and I were waiting.

"Ready?" Harry muttered.

"Wait till everyone's gone," Hermione said nervously. I rolled my eyes and shoved her from behind, almost making her hit herself on the desk, had it not been by her quick reflexes.

"Yes?" Lockhart asked, watching as Hermione whirled around from glaring at me and suddenly turned beat red. The boys and I followed quietly.

"Er - Professor Lockhart?" Hermione stammered. "I wanted to - to get this book out of the library. Just for background reading." She held out the piece of paper, her hand shaking slightly. "But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it - I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in _Gadding with Ghouls_ about slow-acting venoms -"

"Ah, _Gadding with Ghouls_!" Lockhart said, taking the note from Hermione and smiling widely at her. "Possibly my very favorite book. You enjoyed it!"

"Oh, yes," Hermione said eagerly. "So clever, the way you trapped that last one with the tea-strainer -"

"Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving the best student of the year little extra help," Lockhart said warmly, and he pulled out an enormous peacock quill. "Yes, nice, isn't it?" he said, apparently misreading my incredulous eyes. "I usually save it for book signings."

"What an honor, sir!" I exaggerated. The teacher smiled, once again not understanding the situation.

"So, Harry," said Lockhart instead, while Hermione folded the note with fumbling fingers and slipped it into her bag. "Tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you're a useful player. I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players..."

"I think Harry is more than capable than you think, Professor," I said sharply, ignoring the airhead's stunned expression as I tugged Hermione from her robes. "Have a good evening, sir."

Once we hurried out of the classroom, Harry spoke.

"I don't believe it," with a shocked tune, he joined us to stare down at Lockhart's signature on the piece of parchment, which had Hermione's neatly writing of _Moste Potente Potions_. "He didn't even _look_ at the book we wanted."

"That's because he's a brainless _git_," said Ron. "But who cares, we've got what we needed —"

"He is _not _a brainless git," Hermione said shrilly as we half ran toward the library. Madam Pince, the librarian, was a thin, irritable woman who looked like an underfed vulture.

_"Moste Potente Potions?"_ she repeated suspiciously, trying to take the note from Hermione; but she wouldn't let go.

"I was wondering if I could keep it," she said breathlessly.

"Oh, come on," Ron said, wrenching it from her grasp and thrusting it at Madam Pince. "We'll get you another autograph. Lockhart'll sign anything if is stands still long enough."

Madam Pince held the note up to the light, as though determined to detect a forgery, but it passed the test. She stalked away between the lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carrying a large and moldy-looking book. Hermione put it carefully into her bag and we left. The seemed to be trying to not walk quickly or look guilty. The thought made me smile.

Five minutes later, we were barricaded in Moaning Myrtle's out-of-order bathroom once again. Hermione had overridden Ron's objections by pointing out that it was the last place anyone in their right minds would go, so we were guaranteed some privacy. Moaning Myrtle was crying noisily in her stall, but we were ignoring her, and she did the same with us.

Hemrione opened _Moste Potente Potions_ carefully, and the four of us bent over the damp-spotted pages. It was clear from a glance why it belonged in the Restricted Section. Some of the potions had effects almost too gruesome to think about, and there were some very unpleasant illustration, which included a man who seemed to have been turned inside out and a witch sprouting several extra pairs of arms out of her head.

"Here it is," said Hermione excitedly as she found the page headed _The Polyjuice Potion_. It was decorated with drawings of people halfway through transforming into other people. I could only hope t=for the sake of my friends that the looks of intense pain were only the imagination of the artist.

"This is the most complicated potion I've ever seen," Hermione said as she scanned the recipe. "Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass," she muttered, running her finger down the list of ingrediants. "Well, they're easy enough, they're in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves. . . .Oooh, look, powdered horn of a bicorn - don't know where we're going to get that - shredded skin of a boomslang - that'll be tricky, too - and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into."

"Excuse me?" Ron said sharply. "What d'you mean, a bit of whoever we're changing into? I'm drinking _nothing _with Crabbe's toenails in it -"

Hermione continued as though she hasn't heard him.

"We don't have to worry about that yet, though, because we add those bits last..."

"I'm already feeling sick from just hearing you talk," I commented.

"D'you realize how much we're going to have to steal, Hermione?" Harry asked. "Shredded skin of a boomslang, that's definitely not in the students' cupboard. What're we going to do, break into Snape's private stores? I don't know if this is a good idea..."

Hermione angrily shut the book with a snap. Her cheeks were red and her eyes brighter than usual as she glared to all of us.

"Well, if you three are going to chicken out, fine. _I_ don't want to break rules, you know. _I _think threatening Muggle-borns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, I'll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in -"

"Slow down, Firecracker!" I laughed. "Nobody's saying no."

"But I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be persuading us to break rules," said Ron. "All right, we'll do it. But not toenails, okay?"

* * *

"Harry Potter has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins!" Lee Jordan exclaimed from the teachers' stands.

"Let's go!" said Ron, pushing through the crowd. The bludger was still floating around Harry's unconscious body, slamming harshly on the ground and leaving small rounded pitches. The next time though, was ready to slam on Harry's face.

"_Finite Incantatem_!" I yelled, flicking my wand at the murderous ball and making it explode into golden dust.

When I finally made it through the crowd that had formed around him, I dropped on my knees and started to slap his cheek softly several times.

"Oi, Harry. Harry, wake up!"

His eyes fluttered open, relief washing through me as his emerald gems focused on me. But then he looked over my shoulder and he moaned.

"Oh, no, not you!"

"Doesn't know what he's saying," said Gilederoy Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around us. "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm."

"No!" yelled Harry. "I'll keep it like this, thanks..." He tried to sit up, but the pain he felt was apparently too much.

"Don't move," I ordered him, trying to move around him and help him to sit was the familiar clicking noise of Creevey's camera, making me snap at the poor boy. "This is _not_ the time to take photos, Creepy!"

"Lie back, Harry," said Lockhart soothingly. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times —"

"Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" said Harry through clenched teeth.

"The hell you're going to touch him," I exclaimed, grabbing the teacher's colorful jade sleeve and trying to tug him away. I somehow ended shoved into the crowd and got lost. Seconds later, I returned to my old spot and saw what the airhead had done to Harry.

His arm... Eurgh, his arm looked like a rubber-band. It was hanging lazily from his shoulder, waving from side to side in an ugly motion.

"Ah," said Lockhart. "Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That's the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the hospital wing — ah, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Miss Barton, would you escort him? — and Madam Pomfrey will be able to — er — tidy you up a bit."

* * *

"You should have come straight to me!" Poppy looked more angry than I had seen Mrs. Weasley be. Her face had turned an angry scarlet as she marched up and down the Hospital Wing, stopping to say at the fartest bed, "Oh, Mr. Malfoy, stop making such a fuss, you can go!"

I can mend bones in a second — but growing them back —"

"You will be able to, won't you?" said Harry desperately.

"I'll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful," said Pomfrey grimly, throwing Harry a pair of pajamas. "You'll have to stay the night..." Hermione and I waited outside the curtain drawn as Ron helped Harry into the pajamas.

"How can you stick up for Lockhart now, Hermione, eh?" Ron called through the curtain, "If Harry had wanted deboning he would have asked."

"Anyone can make a mistake," said Hermione.

"That man could have damaged Harry permanently, Hermione!" I snapped, feeling annoyed at the lame excuses my stupid bushy-haired friend was making. "Has that registered in your head?"

"Of course it did, Annie!" she hissed, adding to the curtain, "But it doesn't hurt anymore, does it, Harry?"

"No, but it doesn't do anything either."

Poppy moved the curtains aside, walking to Harry with a large bottle labeled as Skele-Gro. It had a skull as a tap.

"You're in for a rough night, Potter," she sighed, pouring the liquid on a glass and handing it to Harry, who then spit it out and started to cough.

"Well, what did you expect? Pumpkin juice?"

* * *

_"Gilderoy Lockhart must pay for his mistakes."_

**_"Should we do something, then? Perhaps a little scare?"_**

_"You're the Mastermind, Riddle. Just say and I'll do it."_

* * *

Anya walked down the corridor, the basilisk following her lead. Of course it would, after all, she was its master - along Tom. The diary was clutched tightly on her arm, but her eyes never swayed from staring straight at the front.

She stopped, however, when she heard a funny clicking sound playing around the corner. Anya smirked. She knew who it was.

"_Prepare to kill_,_ darling_," she hissed at the giant snake. "_This one sure deserves it_."

Just as she predicted, Colin "Creepy" Creevey walked from around the corner, staring down happily at his camera. He looked through the lens, raising it to stare up at the hall.

Imagine the shock to find a smirking Anya Barton, with an enormous snake hissing over her shoulders. The moment Creevey found himself staring at its big yellow eyes, was the moment everyhting became dark for him.

- Or that's what Anya imagined how it was from his part.

With a shrug and a smile, she turned around and skipped down the hallway. Her silhouette and the basilisk's faded with the torches' dim light.

* * *

The next day was the nastiest. I woke up with a heavy headache that made me hiss through all the morning.

I decided to go to the Hospital Wing for a soothing potion, taking advantage of that to visit Harry.

"Hey, wonder boy," I greeted cheerfully, walking down to meet Harry as he sat up on his bed.

"Annie, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"Oh, come on! Can I visit a friend?" He rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, I came to get a potion. My head is hurting again."

"Do you know where are Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked. I shook my head.

"I thought they would be the first ones to arrive," I said. "But, hey! On their behalf, congratulations on having your bones back!"

"Doesn't that makes me feel special?" I heard him mutter.

"I heard that, Potter."

"Good. Let's find the "_old married couple_" then. I have something to tell you all."

* * *

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?" Hermione said shocked.

We had found her and Ron hiding on the second floor's bathroom, continuing to prepare the Polyjuice potion without us. Harry had just stopped explaining about Dobby, the house elf that had gotten him in trouble before. How he had jinxed the bludger and let slip that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened before.

"This settles it," said Ron triumphally. "Lucius Malfoy must've opened the Chamber when he was at school here and now he's told dear old Draco how to do it. It's obvious. Wish Dobby'd told you what kind of monster's in there, though. I want to know how come nobody's noticed it sneaking around the school."

"Maybe it can make itself invisible," said Hermione, prodding leeches to the bottom of the cauldron. "Or maybe it can disguise itself — pretend to be a suit of armor or something — I've read about Chameleon Ghouls —"

"You read too much, Hermione," said Ron, pouring dead lacewings on top of the leeches. He crumpled up the empty lacewing bag and looked at Harry. "So Dobby stopped us from getting on the train and broke your arm..." He shook his head. "You know what, Harry? If he doesn't stop trying to save your life he's going to kill you."

* * *

"Neville," I stared at him confused, "what is that…" I wrinkled my nose in disgust, "what's smelling here?"

In Neville's hands was a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal, and a rotting newt tail.

"Protective amulets," he answered simply.

"What for?" I started waving my hands above our faces. It smelled horrible!

"To protect me from the monster."

"Um, Neville," I pinched my nose with my fingers, "you are a Pureblood, is most unlikely that you're going to be attacked."

"They went for Filch first," Neville said, his round face fearful. "And everyone knows I'm almost a Squib."

* * *

"I suppose you will stay again this year on the castle, Miss Barton?" McGonagall asked, handing me the parchment list of those who were going to stay at Hogwarts.

"Yes," I said. "Are these really the only ones who are going to stay over?"

Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes.

"It seems so. Apparently, all the students had been fooled to think that this Slytherin beast will attack anyone."

"You have heard of the tradings, then?" I grinned.

The Transfiguration teacher sighed. "Are you mocking me, Barton?'"

I shrugged. "Maybe."

As she walked away, I turned to face Hermione and asked if the potion was ready.

"We're missing a few ingredients," she whispered. "Bicorn Horn and Boomslang Skin. But they are only available in Professor Snape's stores."

"How are we going to get them?" said Harry, appearing suddenly at my side and Ron in the other.

"What we need is a diversion. Then one of us can sneak into Snape's office and take what we need," said Hermione briskly.

"I have an idea," I looked through my backpack until I found a pink and yellow stripped cylinder on the bottom.

"What's that?" Ron asked.

"Dunno. I stole it from Snape last year when I had my first detention. I think it actually belonged to your brothers, Ron."

"Now that we are settled, I believe I should be the one to do the stealing," said Hermione in a matter-of-fact tone. "You two will be expelled if you get into any more trouble, and I've got a clean record. So all you need to do is cause enough mayhem to keep Snape busy for five minutes or so."

"Leave that to me," I raised my hand giddily.

Ron gave Harry a disbelieving look.

"I think we are a bad influence to them," he said.

* * *

My life has become a musical - resembling too much the Les Miserables. There was drama here, drama there, and it never seemed to end.

I reflectioned about this since the James Bond tune had decided to play inside my head.

I meant - I was going to make a distraction for Hermione to steal. Instead of a drama, it was more of an action movie.

Tapping impatiently the firecracker on my tight, I waited for Snape to turn around and Hermione's signal.

Looking around, I saw that Malfoy was mocking Harry and Ron again, much to their chagrin. At that exact moment, Hermione winked, and I swiftly threw the clorful cylinder at Malfoy's cauldron. But it fell on the next one to his.

Goyle's potion exploded, showering the whole class with the Swelling Solution. People shrieked as they suddenly started to feel the effects. People like Malfoy got a faceful and his nose began to swell like a balloon; Goyle blundered around, his hands over his eyes, which had expanded to the size of dinner plates.

"Silence! SILENCE!" Snape roared. "Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draft - when I find out who did this -" As Snape, tried to calm down his students, I saw Hermione return to her seat, nodding with a smile.

When everyone received the antidote and settled down, Snape inspected through Goyle's cauldron, pulling out the burnt down firecracker.

"If I ever find out who threw this," he whispered, "I shall _make sure_ that person is expelled."

* * *

"They're starting a Dueling Club!" said Seamus Finnigan as he gazed up at the notice on the board that could be found in the entrance hall . "First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days. . . ."

"What, you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" Ron asked. I felt myself smirk a bit before I schooled my looks into a nonchalant expression._ If they only knew that the Slytherin beast could kill you the moment you saw its eyes..._ I blinked.

"Could be useful," added Ron as he shrugged. "Shall we go?"

* * *

"I wonder who'll be teaching us?" Hermione wondered as we edged into the chattering crowd. The Great Hall's tables had disappeared and instead, a golden platform stage took their place in the middle of the room.

"I heard that Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young," I commented. "Luckily, maybe it's him."

"As long as it's not —" Harry began, but he ended on a groan: Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black. Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry — you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"Oh dear, now who I root for?" I said, making Ron chuckle.

"Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" he said.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"Oh, I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured, watching as Snape bared his teeth.

"One - two - three -"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: _"Expelliarmus!" _There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Malfoy and a few of the other Slytherins cheered. Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. "Do you think he's all right?" she squealed through her fingers.

"Who cares?" Harry, Ron and I said together.

Lockhart was getting to his feet.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, walking back to the platform unsteadily. "That was a Disarming Charm – as you see, I've lost my wand – ah, thank you, Miss Brown – yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but it you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy – however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…"

Snape looked murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he hastily shouted, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me –"

Both teachers moved through the crowd, matching students up in pairs. Lockhart was pairing Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchey when Snape swooped before us.

"Time to to split up the dream team, I think," he sneered."Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter —"

Harry moved automatically toward Hermione. I glared at him.

"I don't think so," Snape said. "Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Granger—you can partner with Miss Bulstrode. Miss Barton—you can go partner with Mr. Zabini."

Blaise Zabini was a dark skinned boy, almost as tall as Ron was. His cheek bones were high and he had long, slanting eyes, which gave me a chill. He politely greeted me by calling me by my surname, a strange and in a way, frightening change of seeing a Slytherin act like that. So used to listening Malfoy's annoying way of talking since our first year, I had actually labeled all the snakes as same as him. An image of Tom - or a shadow that I could think of him - appeared before my mind's eye and I felt guilty. Maybe he was right; I was way too prejudiced by a quarrel between Houses.

"Face your partners!" Lockhart said, back on the platform. "And bow!"

Zabini did as told, and I watched marveled as he performed it without looking so - _meek_, like I had done.

"Wands at the ready!" Lockhart shouted. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents - _only _to disarm them - we don't want any accidents - one... two... three -"

"Expelliarmus!" Our wands flew out of our hands with a blue flash and they fell on the floor.

"_I said disarm only_!" I heard Lockhart shriek. Zabini rolled his eyes and I saw him mouth something like, "Pathetic."

Both Harry and Malfoy had gotten far away from using moderated spells, but it was Hermione who took the worse. Millicent Bulstrode had her in a headlock and was not letting go, not even after Snape commanded her to do it. I threw a hex at her, Hermione dropping on the floor as she gasped for air.

"Barton, detention with me!" Snape said.

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, Macmillan. . . . Careful there, Miss Fawcett. . . . Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second, Boot —

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair — Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you —"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like the scary and malevolent bat he was. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Poor Neville went pink. With a twisted smile, Snape suggested the worst pair ever: Harry and Malfoy.

"Excellent idea!" Lockhart said, gesturing said boys into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to let them step up to the platform.

"Are you alright?" I asked Hermione as she walked over with Ron's aid.

"Yes. Thank you, by the way."

"No prob."

"Shouldn't we get you to the Hospital Wing?" Ron asked dumbfounded. Hermione snorted.

"And miss this?" We all looked at the stage were Lockhart was.

"Three — two — one — go!" he shouted.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, _"Serpensortia!"_

The end of his wand exploded. I watched as a large, black snake fell between them and started to hiss, looking ready to strike. Harry looked at the snake's eyes and -

_I knew_.

"Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily. "I'll get rid of it..."

"Allow me!" Lockhart shouted. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward where I was standing, raising itself again and posing to strike.

I didn't even move from my spot. Locking eyes with the snake, it stopped briefly. His eyes flashed in recognition and slowly, too slow for me but fast enough to the others, the snake bared its fangs.

"_Leave her alone_!" I heard Harry hiss. The snake blinked, and I raised an eyebrow at him, telling him with my expression to follow what the other Parselmouth had to say.

Just for the show, I backed up, making my face mask into the scared little girl I remembered from St. Louise's as the black viper whirled around to stare at Harry. The emerald eyed boy continued to hiss and the snake - I could tell by the way its eyes glinted - mischievously looked over at the crowd, catching the eye of Justin Finch-Fletchey and hissed at him. Once again, I reproached him, and the snake rolled its eyes before it fell docile on the floor.

Harry grinned, not aware of what he had revealed to the crowd.

"What do you think you're playing at?" Justin shouted, and before anyone could say a word, he turned and stormed out of the hall.

Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape, too, was looking at Harry with a calculating look, trying to find an explanation of what happened. Everyone started whispering, their voices echoing against the walls.

Ron went forward and grabbed the back of Harry's robes.

Hauled by his friend, Hermione and I followed them,the people on either side parting away from us as if we were a decease.

When we walked into the common room, Ron pushed Harry on a couch and demanded to know why hadn't he told us he was a Parselmouth.

"I'm a what?" said Harry.

"A _Parselmouth!_" said Ron. "You can talk to snakes!"

"I know," Harry said. "I mean, that's only the second time I've ever done it. I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once—long story—but it was telling me it had never seen Brazil and I sort of set it free without meaning to—that was before I knew I was a wizard-"

"A boa constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?" Ron repeated faintly.

"So?" said Harry. "I bet loads of people here can do it."

"Oh, no they can't," said Ron. "It's not a very common gift. Harry, this is bad."

"There's no necessity to make a discussion of it, Ron," I sighed. "Harry's a Parselmouth. Okay, so?"

"So?" Ron repeated, staring at me as if I had grown up a second head. "So? Anne, do you know what this means?"

"Of course I do. But its rubbish. I mean - its Harry."

"When you decide to tell me what's going on - !"

"A Parselmouth is someone who can speak to snakes," I said calmly, shooting Ron a small glare. "They are not very common in the Wizarding World, that's why all the ruckus started."

"What were you saying, anywhere?"

"You heard me - I told the snake to not attack Annie or Justin -"

"That's what you said? It sounded like if you were egging it or something - it sounded creepy -"

"I spoke a different language?" Harry gasped. "But — I didn't realize — how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?"

"Search me," I shrugged.

"D'you want to tell me what's wrong with stopping a massive snake biting off Justin's head?" he said to Ron. "What does it matter _how_ I did it as long as Justin doesn't have to join the Headless Hunt?"

"It matters," said Hermione, speaking at last in a hushed voice, "because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent."

Harry's mouth fell open.

"Exactly," said Ron. "And now the whole school's going to think you're his great-great-great-great-grandson or something —"

"But I'm not."

"You'll find that hard to prove," said Hermione. "He lived about a thousand years ago; for all we know, you could be."

They fell silent.I stared at Harry, who looked like a kicked puppy and took pity on him. I put my hand on his shoulder and touched his face making him look directly at my eyes as I spoke.

"Whatever they say wonder boy, whatever you hear from all the students - even the Parselmouth thing - ignore it. You are not the bad guy here, alright. Talking to snakes doesn't mean you are Slytherin's descendant. For all we know, you could have gotten the ability from Voldemort or something."

"Thanks," he mumbled, looking away.

"I'm serious, Harry. _You are not_ _bad_."

How dirty and hypocritical it sounded coming from me.


	13. Completely Different

Hermione Granger could tell something was wrong with her best friend, Anya Barton.

It all started since she saw that little black book on her hands whilst they traveled in the train to Hogwarts. In fact, if Hermione's assumptions were true, that book had _everything_ to do with it. The change moods and the headaches, they weren't normal at all. No one could get sick so many times without being sent to St. Mungos, for heaven's sake!

Also, there were times she didn't recognize her friend anymore. She knew that Annie didn't have it easy to socialize well with people because of sarcastic and cautious nature, but her kindness and bravery overrode that most of the time. But right now, it was as if Hermione's friend was another person altogether.

The next day after the Parselmouth incident, Hermione woke up more worried than a normal girl at her age should. Plagued with nightmares full of snakes, Slytherins and books, Hermione woke up feeling tired and sore. Twisting her arms above her head awkwardly, she let out a groan when a popping sound filled the silent dormitory. As always, she was the first and only second girl awake.

Or so she thought.

Hermione noticed that Annie's curtains were wide open. Anya Barton never left her bed uncovered.

She inched a little closer to take a peek, finding exactly who she was thinking of sitting on the middle of the crimson sheets. Annie wore a pair of worn off jeans and a blue sweater, her shoes having been placed down beside her trunk. They were full of mud. But what perturbed Hermione the most was the expression on the Barton girl. Hugging both her legs to her chest, Annie seemed to be glaring at something Hermione could not see, and her eyes were bloodshot, as if she hadn't slept yesterday night.

"Annie...?" The girl looked up sharply and Hermione had tor restrain herself from gasping in fright. For a moment, Annie's eyes had been completely blue, the icy color adding more power to the glare she had sent on my way. Before she could ask what was happening, it was gone and instead, a blank expression filled in.

"Are you alright?" Hermione couldn't help for asking.

"Yes," Annie smiled, only to disappear and a frown to take its place. "Why shouldn't I?"

Hermione noticed that her friend's robes had been tossed in a bunch at the corner of her. For the first time, she didn't scold her.

"For nothing," she replied.

What was happening to Anya Barton?

* * *

As Hermione walked to the bathroom, I immediately grabbed my robes and shoved them inside my trunk, along with my white sneakers.

This dream had felt too much real.

One moment, I was speaking outside in the Black Lake with Tom, the handsome shadow of a boy, and then everything twisted itself. The next time I opened my eyes, I was standing on a corridor near the library.

"Miss Barton?" it was Sir Headless Nick, floating in front of me worriedly. "Why are you awake at this early hours?"

I didn't even tried to tell him to run. The moment he looked behind me, Sir Nick froze and stayed that way. Shaking, I tried to turn my head to look back. The scream died on my throat the moment I met those yellow eyes. It was a black giant snake, bigger than any other creature I had seen before.

The sound of footsteps brought my attention back.

"NO!" I screamed.

"What - _Barton_? What are you doing here? Why is Sir Nicholas -"

He stopped talking. Scared, I turned to look at him and bit back another scream. It was Just Finch-Fletchey, the pompous Hufflepuff that everyone thought Harry was going to attack. Forget that, he is the one _I_ apparently had _attacked_!

After confirming by tact that he was petrified - his skin had turned firm as marble, cold as stone -, I accidentally shoved him to the ground.

And after that, I was here again, on the dormitory and tucked neatly in my blankets. Wearing my old clothes from the Orphanage, exactly the ones I had been planning to throw away.

I hoped anything of that was only a dream. A forgotten nightmare.

* * *

The moment I entered the Great Hall that very same evening, I knew I had forcefully jinxed myself.

Ravenclaws, Slytherins and Gryffindors spoke in hushed voices, glancing with fear at the Gryffindor table, as if trying to search for someone. I was mostly interested though, in the Hufflepuff's table reaction. They all looked mean and angry, a few looking scared. But it was mainly anger that dominated their space.

"What's happening?" I asked at Neville Longbottom, ignoring my plate that had suddenly filled with my favorite food, sausages with chicken legs and a bit of rice with sauce. I would be marveled at how the Hogwarts castle had guessed my most eaten plates, but I was more concerned about the sudden mood change of the students.

It was Seamus Finnigan who answered.

"Don't you know? They found Finch-Fletchey from Hufflepuff petrified this morning."

I gaped. That... wasn't that...

"I... I didn't know. I ditched classes today."

Seamus nodded.

"Thought so, otherwise, Granger would have told you ages ago."

"Hermione?" I repeated confused.

Dean Thomas, Seamus' best mate, answered this time.

"When the bell rang, all students found Harry in the crime scene."

I blinked.

"Seriously?" I asked lowly, leaning towards them. "Harry?"

"And that's not the worse," Dean said in what he expected to be a scary voice.

I raised an eyebrow. "There's _more_?" I hissed.

"Sir Headless Nick was found there, but frozen. Nobody knows how it happened."

"The Slytherin monster must be invincible," whispered Seamus looking around as if expecting to be attacked for saying those words.

I sat back, feeling like I could throw up.

What the hell was happening to me?

* * *

"At this rate, we'll be the only ones left," Ron said. "Us, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. What a jolly holiday it's going to be."

Anya rolled her eyes at the ceiling, slumping half her body next to the wall. The quartet was outside of the castle, watching as students tried to walk through the thick white snow on the grounds. Crossing her arms, she said, "At this hour, we already are the only ones left."

"That's brilliant!" said Hermione brightly, closing her newest obsession of the Lockhart books, _Wandering with Werewolves_. "Then I can end brewing the potion outside of that horrible stall," she added quietly.

"How much until it's finished?" Harry asked, looking mildly disappointed when a couple of first years ran away scared when they saw him.

"Not much. A week, at least."

"Hey, look everyone! It's the Heir of Slytherin!" said Fred Weasley out of nowhere.

"Be careful he's a _seriously_ evil wizard," his twin, George, piped. He waved a piece of garlic, and bot twins laughed.

"That wasn't funny," Anya hissed when they left. She tightened her Hogwarts scarf around her neck.

"Oh, come on ,Anne, Fred and George are just having a laugh," Ron said.

Anya glared at him. "Well, you don't see me laughing, do you?" And she whirled around, her brown hair hovering to the side of her face.

_Didn't they see there was something wrong with her?_ she thought angrily._ Or were they too wrapped around their little own world to see the truth right in front of their noses?_

After so much wandering and over thinking, Anya had come to the conclusion that there was a high possibility that she, herself, could have done something so horrible, without knowing she did it. It sounded quite ridiculous to her ears, but it was the only theory that had made sense after two hours of sitting blankly in her bed.

Now, if she could only convince those pair of annoying twins to stop cracking jokes about the Slytherin's Heir...

* * *

Anya woke up with a smile on her face, the bright light of Christmas day hitting her fully on the face. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see Otto, the old tawny school owl, staring at her reproachfully.

"Hello there," she muttered. "Fancy seeing you here."

Otto shook his wing ruefully, flying at the top of the bed's canopy, and continued to watch Anya from there.

"Got it. I should talk to you more often."

The owl closed his eyes and moved his head from side to side, as if he were sighing in disappointment. Great, now the owl thought her as crazy.

Anya sighed and sat up, looking out of the window with sad eyes. She couldn't help it; it was as if this year was nothing but a disappointment to her and her friends.

_Friends_. Looking over at Hermione, Anya wondered if she really had friends. The way they all interacted with each other was highly unusual, but then again, most of the time they were trying to save Hogwarts from evil wizards.

She took a second peek and a slow smile spread over her face. Anya jumped from her bed and ran over at Hermione's and took a leap. She started jumping and singing a Christmas song.

"_Jingle bells, jingle bells,_  
_Jingle all the way;_  
_Oh! what fun it is to ride_  
_In a one-horse open sleigh_!"

Hermione groaned, pulling the blanket closer to her chin. Anya didn't seem to mind though; she jumped down the bed and grabbed hold of the end of the blanket, ripping it away from Hermione.

"Merry Christmas!" she yelled. Hermione did not react until Anya told her it was eight o' clock in the morning.

"Merlin's beard!" the bushy haired girl exclaimed, almost knocking her friend when she ran to the bathroom. "Annie, why didn't you wake me up _earlier_? We need to finish the Polyjuice!"

* * *

After we ate, Hermione ushered us out of the Hall to finalize the plan for the evening.

"We still need a bit of the people you're changing into," she said. "And obviously, it'll be best if you can get something of Crabbe's and Goyle's; they're Malfoy's best friends, he'll tell them anything. And we also need to make sure the real Crabbe and Goyle can't burst in on us while we're interrogating him.

"I've got it all worked out," she said after watching the unsure looks the boys exchanged. She pulled out to chocolate cakes. "I've filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. All you have to do is make sure Crabbe and Goyle find them. You know how greedy they are, they're bound to eat them. Once they're asleep, pull out a few of their hairs and hide them in a broom closet."

"Hermione, I don't think-" Harry started.

"This could go seriously wrong-"

"The potion will be useless without Crabbe's and Goyle's hair," Hermione said sternly, reminding me of Professor McGonagall. "You do _want_ to investigate Malfoy, don't you?"

"Oh, all right, all right," Harry said. "But what about you? And Annie? Whose hair are you two ripping out?"

"I've already got mine," Hermione said, pulling out a little bottle. "Remember Millicent Bulstrode wrestling with me at the Dueling Club? She left this on my robes when she was trying to strangle me! And she's gone home for Christmas—so I'll just have to tell the Slytherins I've decided to come back."

"I'm going to keep lookout." All eyes turned to me. _Oh, I didn't just say that. _"In case something worse happens. Besides, with all my headaches and colds, I don't think it's safe for me to rink the potion."

_And the lies kept coming out _so easily_ out of my mouth._

* * *

"Saint Potter," said Malfoy scornfully. "The Mudbloods' friend. He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped-up Granger Mudblood. And people think _he's _Slytherin's heir!" he shook his head. "I _wish_ I knew who it is. I could help them."

"You must have some idea who's behind it all," said Harry - or 'Goyle'.

"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?" snapped Malfoy. "And Father won't tell me _anything_ about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing — last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood _died_. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time... I hope it's Granger," he said with relish. "Or maybe Barton."

Malfoy laughed.

"But it's most likely that Barton is the Heir than her getting attacked."

Ron, disguised as Crabbe, shot a bewildered look at Harry.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh yes, I forgot not anyone knows about Barton's family tree," Malfoy said smugly. "Do you remember about all the press writing about Thea Rosenberg?"

Harry hadn't read anything about it, but it was Ron who nodded.

"Well, the thing is, that the reason everyone is so shocked its because she was dead. _Literally_. When Aurors searched for survivors in the McKinnons' cottage, they found eight bodies; the three sisters, Mrs. and Mr. McKinnon, and the Rosenberg family was there as well. There were people that identified them, mainly Potter's parents and Barton's. Ministry officers said that it was all a bloody show; the bodies were too unrecognizable. There was no way that any of them could have survived. And if Barton's aunt could cheat dead, then why couldn't be Barton helping the Heir?"

"D'you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?" said Harry a few moments later.

"Oh, yeah..."

None of them noticed a First year girl with brown hair slipping away from the common room.

Once she was outside, Astoria Greengrass' facade disappeared on a whoosh of sparkles, and standing there, was Anya Barton with a mournful stance.

* * *

"How did it go?" she pretended to be ignorant of what she head heard. Sitting down on the floor with _Moste Pontente Potions_ on her lap, she didn't seem to have moved out of her spot at all.

"W found out more than we expected," said Harry uneasily.

Ron hammered on the door of Hermione's stall.

"Hermione, come out, we've got loads to tell you —"

"Go away!" Hermione squeaked.

"What's the matter?" Ron asked. "You must be back to normal by now, we are—"

Moaning Myrtle was back and glided through the stall door. She was smiling giddily.

"Oooooh, wait till you see," she said. "It's _awful_-"

With a bang, Anya shut the book abruptly. "Shut up Myrtle!"

Hermione unlocked the stall door and came out, crying again. She had her robes pulled up over her head.

"What's up?" Ron asked. "Have you still got Millicent's nose or something?"

Hermione let her robes fall and Ron backed into the sink.

Her face was covered in black fur. Her eyes had turned yellow and there were long, pointed ears poking through her hair.

"It was a c-cat hair!" she howled. "M-Millicent Bulstrode m-must have a cat! And the p-potion isn't supposed to be used for animal transformations!"

"Uh-oh," Ron said.

"You'll be teased something _dreadful_," Myrtle said.

"Myrtle," Anya growled in warning.

"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry quickly. "We'll take you up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions..."

"But first, Hermione," Anya looked seriously at the catgirl, "can I pet you?" Hermione glared.

It took a long time to persuade Hermione to leave the bathroom. Moaning Myrtle sped us on our way with a hearty guffaw. "Wait till everyone finds out you've got a _tail!_"


	14. Riddle's pet

_"What are you not telling me, Tom?"_

_**"What do you mean, Anya? I've been nothing but truthful to you."**_

_"... _Liar_..."_

* * *

Running through the halls, Anya held her backpack close to her chest, her eyes wandering to every student that walked past her. Nobody paid her much attention, and for the first time, she felt grateful that the whole school was paying more attention to her friends to notice her much.

She ran through the girls' bathroom from the second floor and headed to the nearest stall; Myrtle's toilet. She closed the door behind her and Anya leaned her back on the wooden stall. The book was immediately at her reach as her hand searched her bag and just as she raised her hand to throw it - Anya stopped.

Tears began to sting at the corners of her eyes, and she knew, without a doubt, that she was making the biggest mistake of her life while at the same time it was the right thing to do. With closed eyes she mumbled an apology to Tom and dropped the diary on the toilet, flushing it down as a sob left her.

And Anya ran away once again. Away from her problems. Away from her pain.

* * *

The headaches had stopped, and so did the blackouts and memory losses. My mood was certainly more cheerful, and even in my joy, I congratulated Hermione on receiving a get-well card from Lockhart.

But my obsession with Tom had made me neglect my classes, and even though he taught me a lot of things (that I will not use unless is a matter of life or death), none of them had been for second year material. My sickness towards the library returned, as I had to spend more time there than with the boys and a de-whisked Hermione.

The fourteenth of February arrived, and so did a ridiculous way of cheering - or that's what Lockhart calls it.

The Great Hall's walls had been decorated with over-sized lurid flowers, all of them different shades of pink. Heart-shaped confetti was falling from the blue pale ceiling down to the pink tableclothes laid on the four Houses' tables.

Ron tried to make a run for it, but I had already grasped the end of his robes.

"Oh no! You're not leaving me alone with future Mrs. Lockhart!"

"But everything is so pink!" Ron moaned.

"I know," I nodded grimly. "I would take Snape's dungeon any day than this."

Just then, Harry arrived. He was wearing his Quidditch red robes and looking thoroughly confused.

"What's going on?"

We pointed at the teachers' table, were Gilderoy Lockhart was waving his hands for silence. To match the decoration, he had chosen to wear lurid pink robes. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. I could see Professor McGonagall's cheek twitching from here, and Snape - he looked as if he had swallowed a bag full of lemons and a drop of Skele-Gro.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn't end here!"

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen of dwarfs. All of them looked sour and wore golden wings, in their hands they carried harps.

"My frienly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines!"

Normally, owls were the ones who brought you your valentines along with your mail - meaning that Lockhart had stolen all the cards from the Owlery.

And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.

"Please, Hermione, tell me you weren't one of the forty-six," Ron said as we left the Great Hall for our first lesson. Hermione suddenly became very interested in searching her bag for her schedule and didn't answer. I laughed.

"You did!" I nudged her side with my elbow. "I didn't think you would be so bold, Mione!"

"Shut up, Annie!" Hermione said smiling. We intertwined our arms together but before we could leave the Hall, we were stopped. A dwarf, looking younger then the others, was standing in front of us twisting his hands on the harp nervously.

"Is one of you Annie Barton?" it asked on a timid voice.

While Hermione awed at the cuteness, I dreadfully answered.

"That's me."

The dwarf took a deep breath but before he could sing, I interrupted.

"Would you like to just give me the card? It would be less embarrassing for the both of us."

The dwarf looked so relieved that made me pity him, because he still would have to deliver more Valentines for the rest of the day.

"Annie, read it!" Hermione squealed.

"Yes, Anne, _read it_," Ron sniggered. I swatted him on the shoulder.

"_I love it when you smile_  
_It seems to brighten up the room,_  
_I love it when you laugh_  
_It seems to chase away the gloom_

_I love your sunny disposition_  
_It warms my heart to the core,_  
_Your strong will and determination_  
_Makes me like you even more_

_Cause no matter what situation you're in_  
_You do your best, you give it your all,_  
_Inspiring those around you_  
_To do their best, to give it their all_

_I'll never forget the first time we met _  
_because those hazel eyes made me feel alright,_  
_have a happy Valentine's day_  
_and this is all_."

"Oh, Annie!" Hermione giggled. "It's beautiful! Who send it?"

"Who knows how to write poetry here?" Harry asked, looking a bit stunned at how well the words rhymed. But I ignored them and instead, caressed the signature at the end. It was the small doodle of a flower - a sword lily.

"Must be from a Ravenclaw," Ron said, barely containing his snickers, only to end laughing along Harry.

"Stop it, you two!" Hermione snapped, trying to stop them. I, however, glanced around subtly. Who would have send me a beautiful Valentine? And as Harry said, who had the ability to write these words? Words that had touched my usually stone heart?

And my eyes met another. A warm brown color, gentler and darker than Hermione's. The tip of his ears turned red and he ducked his head, giving me full view of his dark brown hair.

I smiled.

* * *

"Oy, you! 'Arry Potter!" shouted a grim-looking dwarf, elbowing everyone to make his way toward us. Harry tried to make a run for it - he really did, but I already had caught the back of his collar shirt.

"Revenge is _so_ sweet, isn't?" I told him sarcastically.

"Anne, let go!" Harry snarled. I shrugged.

"As you wish," and let go, only because the dwarf had finally caught us.

"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person," he said, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.

"_Not here_," Harry hissed, trying to escape.

"Stay still!" grunted the dwarf, grabbing hold of Harry's bag and pulling him back.

"Let me go!" Harry snarled, tugging.

With a loud ripping noise, his bag split in two. His books, wand, parchment, and quill spilled onto the floor and his ink bottle smashed over everything.

"What's going on here?" came a cold, drawling voice. I rolled my eyes at the perfect timing Draco Malfoy had. I knelt to help Harry gather his things into his bag, ignoring the glare that clearly blamed me for this.

"What's all this commotion?" said Percy Weasley arriving at the scene, but nobody answered as the dwarf began to sing in a sort of ugly melody.

"_His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, _  
_His hair is as dark as a blackboard. _  
_I wish he was mine, he's really divine, _  
_The hero who conquered the Dark Lord_."

I wanted to laugh, but I didn't. Because in the midst of all the First years, Ginny Weasley stood frozen, her face reddening as each word was sang.

"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now," said Percy loudly, shooing some of the younger students away. "_And_ you, Malfoy —"

"Give that back," said Harry quietly, glaring at Malfoy who was showing something to his apes.

"Wonder what Potter's written in this?"

And as he raised the object, I felt my knees wobble slightly. It was a black small book, looking tattered and worn. But I recognized the small golden print of the store in cursive - _it was Tom's diary_.

Wide eyed, I watched as both Malfoy and Harry fought over it, and when Harry made it fly, I was the one who caught it.

How I wanted to write on it, to ask Tom what he had told to wonder boy, but I had no choice than give it back with reluctance.

* * *

"You're joking!"

"Shhhh!" Harry put a hand on my mouth. "Don't shout, we don't need anyone listening!"

"You must be joking," I hissed when he let go. "Hagrid? _Our_ Hagrid was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago? That's rubbish!"

I don't know what Tom was playing at when he pulled Harry into one of his memories. There was a high chance of it being fake. And besides the fact Hagrid had an uncanny love for dangerous creatures, it was too obvious he wouldn't be the culprit.

"Riddle _might_ have got the wrong person," Hermione agreed. "Maybe it was some other monster that was attacking people..."

"How many monsters d'you think this place can hold?" Ron asked.

"More than you can think of, it seems," I muttered.

"We always knew Hagrid had been expelled," said Harry . "And the attacks must've stopped after Hagrid was kicked out. Otherwise, Riddle wouldn't have got his award."

"But _this is_ Hagrid we are talking about," I exclaimed. "He couldn't have done it."

"And Riddle _does_ sound like Percy—who asked him to squeal on Hagrid, anyway?"

"But the monster had _killed_ someone, Ron," Hermione said.

"And Riddle was going to go back to some Muggle orphanage if they closed Hogwarts," Harry said. "I don't blame him for wanting to stay here..."

"Well, I come from an Orphanage too, but you don't see me complaining, do you?" I snapped. "For all you know, Riddle could be lying!"

"You met Hagrid down Knockturn Alley, didn't you, Harry?" said Ron suddenly.

"He was buying a Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent," said Harry quickly.

We fell silent. After a long pause, Hermione voiced the knottiest question of all in a hesitant voice.

"Do you think we should go and ask Hagrid about it all?"

"That'd be a cheerful visit," said Ron. " 'Hello, Hagrid. Tell us, have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately?' "

* * *

March rolled by, and so did Ron's birthday. During the Easter Holidays, we were informed that we had to chose our new classes for the next year.

"It could affect our whole future," said Hermione, who took very seriously this task. I grabbed another page of classes.

"I just want to give up Potions," Harry announced tiredly, looking down at the _Care of Magical Creatures_ title.

"We can't," Ron said gloomily. "We keep all our old subjects, or I'd've ditched Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"But that's very important!" Hermione said, shocked.

"Not the way Lockhart teaches it," Ron said. "I haven't learned anything from him except not to set pixies loose."

"Or learning how to wash and curl your hair and look ridiculous with it," I said.

In the end, I ended choosing the same classes as the boys; Divination and Care of Magical Creatures.

* * *

It was the perfect time, Anya decided. Harry was outside in Quidditch training, and both Ron and Hermione had gone to the library, leaving her alone.

She knew from experience, because she had seen Alicia Spinnet walking down from the Boys' stairs, that any girl could walk up there without trouble. With nobody watching her, Anya went to the second years' room. It was the same as the girls', but it was more disorganized and it smelled of socks and candies. Those were probably from Ron, she thought with a grimace.

It wasn't difficult to guess what was Harry's bed; only his and Neville's were the decent ones she could find.

She started with his trunk, searching through it like a mad woman. By accident, she ripped one of his Lockhart books and teared one of his finest cloaks, but Anya swore silently that she would repay Harry later. However, a book caught her eye. It was a red-leather album photographs, and as she moved through pages, Anya saw that Harry had included the photo she had given him last Christmas.

Gripped by guilt, she faltered when she opened the drawer on his bedside cabinet.

Why was she doing this, for starters? Was she afraid of what Harry would discover? Of the way people would see her after everyone new the truth? Or that Malfoy, after all this time, had been right?

"You're doing this for their sake," Anya told herself softly, pulling from the cabinet and dropping its contents on the bed.

* * *

**_"Hello, Anya."_**

_"Hello Riddle."_

**_"My my, aren't we cold? Why did you try to dispose of me?"_**

_"Don't play victim, Thomas! What did you tell Harry? What are you trying to do in this mad game of yours?!"_

_**"Did I not tell you before? I am trying to make of this world a better place. You agreed with me in the beginning, why the sudden change?"**  
_

_"Because it's wrong!"_

**_"Because it's wrong? ...Or because you're _afraid_?"_**

_"I do not have to answer you."_

**_"Then you must learn what your place is, Anya Barton."_**

* * *

_"Hermione, take it! Take it and run! Don't look back, please..."_

_"Annie, I know! I know what the creature is!"_

_"... So do I. Hermione, _I_ am the Heir of Slytherin."_

_"... I don't believe it... after all this time..."_

_"Please trust me. I know you don't have any reasons to do that, but I'll explain everything once you're safe. Okay?"_

* * *

Her eyes snapped open. Anya was standing in the middle of the second floor Girls' bathroom. What had happened? What was she doing here?

Looking at herself through one of the mirrors on the sinks's side, she grimly declared that looked like shit. Her skin once again was that sickly white pale she had come to detest and had bags under her eyes. Her face looked like a raccoon, now that she thought of it. There was a slight tug around her neck and when she turned her attention to it, Anya saw that she was wearing a black choker. It had a small silver coin attached; two intertwined snakes had been carved to one side and in the other, was a curvy R.

Frowning, she tried to pull it off. it didn't give away.

Giving up, she picked her backpack from the floor and joined the tumultuous crowd that was making its way towards the Quidditch pitch.

"All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!" Anya heard Professor McGonagall shout. She was standing in the midst of the crowd with a purple megaphone in her hands, behind her Harry and Ron stood awkwardly.

"Miss Barton," she called. "Come with us."

"Where's Hermione?" Anya hissed to them. They shrugged. Feeling the dread spreading from her head to toes, Any willingly followed McGonagall until they arrived at the Hospital Wing.

_No_.

"This will be a bit of a shock," said Professor McGonagall gently, her hand stopping from opening the door. "There has been another attack... another _double_ attack."

She pushed the door open. Madam Pomfrey was bending over a sixth-year girl with long, curly hair. Anya recognized her as Penelope Clearwater; she had caught both the Prefect and Percy Weasley snogging in some classroom when she had been trying to get rid of Tom's diary. Awkwardly, Ginny had been there, too. The Weasley elder had tried to convince them to not tell anyone, but Anya clearly stated that it wasn't any of her business to divulge something that wasn't of her importance.

As she looked to the bed next to Clearwater, the brunette girl couldn't help but let out a small cry. She had been dreading this since she discovered that Tom was manipulating her, but to confirm it in person...

"Hermione!" Ron groaned, watching as Anya ran to their friend's side.

Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy. Anya let out a sob and grabbed Hermione's hand; she felt something on it but she didn't remove it.

"They were found near the library," said Professor McGonagall. "I don't suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them..."

She was holding up a small, circular mirror. Anya shook her head along with the boys, but unfortunately, she knew it very clearly. It was blue and had little diamonds that created a butterfly figure. As an apology, Natasha had given it to her on Christmas Holidays.

"I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower," said McGonagall heavily. "I need to address the students in any case."

"It's my fault," Anya whimpered to her petrified friend. "It's all my fault! I am so sorry, Hermione."

* * *

"All students will return to their House common rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities."

The Gryffindors packed inside the common room listened to Professor McGonagall in silence. She rolled up the parchment from which she had been reading and said in a somewhat choked voice, "I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward."

Sitting alone in the farthest corner of the common room, Anya didn't pay any attention as the Gryffindors began to shout their outrage against the Slytherins.

"That's two Gryffindors down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, one Ravenclaw, and one Hufflepuff," said Lee Jordan, the Quidditch commentator and friend of the Weasley twins.. "Haven't _any_ of the teachers noticed that the Slytherins are all safe? Isn't it _obvious _all this stuff's coming from Slytherin? The _Heir_ of Slytherin, the _monster_ of Slytherin — why don't they just chuck all the Slytherins out?"

Roars and claps followed his speak, but Anya could only close her eyes in despair. What had she done?

The choker around her neck felt heavier than before, and she suddenly understood what it meant.

Tom could take over her whenever he wanted to. She was his puppet, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She felt the couch on where she sat give under the weight of someone else sitting. An arm surrounded her shoulders and Anya couldn't help but give into tears. The unknown person stroked her arm soothingly, whispering useless word of comfort, but she still was grateful for them.

"Thanks Neville. For the Valentine... and for this."

* * *

**I used most parts of a poem to make the Valentine to Anya. Curiously, it's called "A poem to Annie" by Erwin Quah. It's really sweet once you read it all without the changes I made. Maybe I will use it again for future references...**


	15. Riddle this

Neville Longbottom knew that somehow, Anya Barton was dying.

Not literally, of course. But the girl he met one year ago in the Hogwarts Express wasn't there anymore.

Since Hermione had been petrified, she seemed to be clinging to him as if he were a lifesaver. Neville didn't ask, but curiosity always won over. He started to watch how the so-called Quartet interacted without their brains. And as he watched Harry and Ron spending time together and how Annie was deteriorating in front of his eyes, Neville came to realize that their only bond had been Hermione Granger. After all, the three of them had saved the bushy-haired girl from a troll.

Maybe that's why he still had hope; hoping to be noticed by his crush in this weak state she was. Hoping to prove that he wasn't that scared boy he had shown to be. There was a good chance that this was only a fleeting infatuation, an illusion of sorts, or even an impossible dream.

But as she still cried on his shoulder, as Annie still clung to his arm - Neville hoped this nightmare would end sooner. For both their sake.

* * *

"_Exams_?" howled Seamus Finnigan. "We're still getting exams?"

"The whole point of keeping the school open at this time is for you to receive your education," said Professor McGonagall with a frown on her face. "The exams will therefore take place as usual, and I trust you are all studying hard."

Neville whimpered on her side, but Anya could care less. With a small sigh, she let her elbows rest on the desk, her hands holding her chin carefully. Long gone was the want to cry out to the world what she had done, and instead, guilt fueled every action she made. Breathing, eating, walking... because she knew those who had been petrified couldn't do that.

"Professor Dumbledore's instructions were to keep the school running as normally as possible," McGonagall continued. "And that, I need hardly point out, means finding out how much you have learned this year."

"Can you image me taking exams with this?" said Ron loudly, pointing at his wand which had started to whistle and let out smoke.

The choker was a chain that stopped her from being free - Anya had tried everything on her hands to take it off, but it was useless. Tom had made it himself so that she or anyone could separate it from her tender skin.

She felt dirty. Worthless.

* * *

"I have good news," Professor McGonagall said, and the Great Hall, instead of falling silent, erupted.

"Dumbledore's coming back!", "You've caught the Heir of Slytherin!", "QUIDDITCH MATCHES ARE ON!"

"Silence! Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."

Relief washed through Anya. Her friend was going to wake up, Hermione was going to be alright.

But the guilt didn't go.

"I'll be back," she muttered quietly to Neville, not letting her eyes wander from both Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

When she sat down beside Ron, he was saying, "She hasn't studied. It might be kinder to leave her where she is till they're over."

"What's up?" said Ron as he helped himself more porridge. Her hands started to twist on her lap.

"Annie, are you alright?" Harry asked, watching as she glanced up and down the table.

"I need to tell you something," she whispered. _It's for the best_, her conscious told her,_ they deserve the truth before anyone_.

"What is it?"

"Spit it out."

Harry leaned forward and spoke quietly, so that only the two of them could heard him.

"Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets? Have you seen something? Someone acting oddly?"

Anya took a deep breath. Yes, it had been her. No, she didn't see anything because she has been having blackouts. And how could they not notice? She has acted more oddly than anyone from their House!

"Guys, I -"

"If you've finished eating, I'll take that seat, Anya. I'm starving, I've only just come off patrol duty."

She jumped up, looking at him with scared eyes. Before anyone could stop her, she ran away, forgetting that she had promised to Neville that she would return.

* * *

**_"It's time."_**

* * *

_"All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please."_

"It has happened," Professor McGonagall told the silent staffroom. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

"How can you be sure?" said Severus Snape, gripping tightly the back on a chair.

"The Heir of Slytherin," said Professor McGonagall, who was very white, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. '_Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever_.' "

Professor Flitwick, who had looked very pale burst promptly into tears.

"Who is it?" asked bravely Madam Hooch. "Which student?"

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath, and looked directly at Snape. With eyes full of sorrow, she spoke.

"Anya Barton."

Snape closed his eyes. "Has her guardian been noticed yet?"

"I thought - I thought it would be best if you told her, Severus," said McGonagall with a small sniff. "We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow. This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said..."

The staffroom door banged open and a beaming Gilderoy Lockhart came in.

"So sorry - dozed off - what have I missed?"

He didn't seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him with something remarkably like hatred. Snape stepped forward.

"Just the man," he said with greeted teeth. "The very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last."

"That's right, Gilderoy," Professor Sprout chipped in. "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I - well, I -" Lockhart sputtered.

"Yes, didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?" Professor Flitwick piped up.

"D-did I? I don't recall -"

"I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," Snape said. "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?"

Lockhart stared around at his stony-faced colleagues.

"I - I really never - you may have misunderstood -"

"We'll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy," Professor McGonagall said. "Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last."

Lockhart gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to the rescue. He didn't look remotely handsome anymore. His lip was trembling, and in the absence of his usually toothy grin, he looked weak-chinned and feeble.

"V-very well," he said. "I'll - I'll be in my office, getting - getting ready."

"Gilderoy," Snape said at last. He was smiling nastily. "Remember who the girl's guardian is. Thea Rosenberg doesn't forgive mistakes."

* * *

"_Open._"

The serpents parted as the wall cracked open, the halves slid smoothly out of sight, and shaking from head to toes, Harry stepped inside.

He was standing at the end of the Chamber of Secrets. Tall snake statues were place on either side of Harry, and he pulled out his wand as he walked down the long hall, the hollow eyes of the snakes following him.

And down at Salazar Slytherin's statue, was a familiar girl.

"Annie!" Harry cried and ran towards her, relief flowing through him. He knelt next to his best friend and flung his wand aside. "Annie, wake up! Please - please, don't be dead -" He shook her shoulders, but her head lolled side to side uselessly, her brown hair covering her white skin. She felt as cold as marble. Harry put his ear next to her heart and he could hear it; a slow steady beating - that seemed to slow as each second passed.

"Annie," Harry muttered hopelessly. "Wake up..."

"She won't wake," said a soft voice.

Harry jumped and spun around on his knees. A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though Harry were looking at him through a misted window.

"Tom - _Tom Riddle_?"

Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry's face.

"What d'you mean, she won't wake?" Harry said desperately. "She's not — she's not — ?"

"She's still alive," said Riddle. "But only just."

"Are you a ghost?" Harry said uncertainly.

"A memory," said Riddle quietly. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years." He pointed toward the floor near the statue's giant toes. Lying open there was the little black diary Harry had found in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"You've got to help me, Tom," Harry said, raising Annie's head again. "We've got to get her out of here. There's a basilisk... I don't know where it is, but it could be along any moment... Please, _help_ _me_ —"

Riddle didn't move. He twirled Harry's wand between his fingers.

"Why aren't you helping me?" shouted Harry, laying Annie's body carefully on the damp ground. Her skin had turned more paler, little green and purple lines could be seen on her eyelids. "Listen Tom - there's a basilisk here! We need to get her out before it comes -"

"It won't come until it is called," said Riddle calmly.

"What d'you mean?" he said. "Look, give me my wand, I might need it —"

Riddle's smile broadened.

"You won't be needing it."

"What d'you mean, I won't be — ?"

"I've waited a long time for this, Harry Potter," said Riddle. "For the chance to see you. To speak to you."

"Look," said Harry irritated, "I don't think you get it. We're in the _Chamber of Secrets. _We can talk later —"

"We're going to talk now," said Riddle, still smiling broadly, and he pocketed his wand.

Harry stared at him. "How did Annie get like this?"

"Well, that's an interesting question," Riddle said pleasantly. "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Anya Barton's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."

"What are you talking about?"

"The diary. _My_ diary. Don't you recognize it, Harry? Anya's been carrying it around her all the time," Riddle said. "Dear Anya has been writing on it for _months_, telling me all about how badly she was treated in her Orphanage, the whispers behind her back about how she was the Ice Princess of Gryffindor, the lies her Aunt has told, and about her friends," his eyes twinkled maliciously. "Mainly _you_."

All the time he spoke, Riddle's eyes never left Harry's face. There was an almost hungry look in them.

"I thought that hearing a little twelve year-old girl talk about her problems would be boring, but I came to realize that Anya wasn't just any girl," Riddle chuckled to himself. "We both had so much in common... I began to write back. I sympathized with her, I could see what she had went through all by herself. _Why do I care what everyone thinks of me when I have you with me, Tom? You're the only one that can really see through me_..."

Riddle looked down at her with pity.

"It wasn't necessary to use any of my charms on her. Anya was already cracking when she started to pour her soul to me, and even though it was exactly what I needed... I didn't necessarily took _everything_. She was the perfect being, if I do say myself. She was too weak, an easy mind to invade, and I did so. I began to taught her about dark magic, her heritage... I helped her regain lost memories... Anya became my apprentice."

"What d'you mean?" said Harry, whose mouth's had gone very dry.

"Haven't you guessed yet, Harry Potter?" said Riddle softly. "Anya Barton opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib's cat."

"No," Harry whispered.

"Yes," said Riddle, calmly. "Of course, she didn't _know_ what she was doing at first. It was very amusing, to see her act as two different persons..._ Tom, something happened yesterday, where I was?_... _Gilderoy Lockhart must pay for his mistakes_... _Prepare to kill, darling_..."

Harry's fists were clenched, the nails digging deep into his palms.

"It took a very long time for stupid little Anya to stop trusting her diary," said Riddle. "But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where you came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet..."

"And why did you want to meet me?" said Harry. Anger was coursing through him, and it was an effort to keep his voice steady.

"Well, Anya told me all about the famous Harry Potter," said Riddle. "Your whole _fascinating _history." His eyes roved over the lightning scar on Harry's forehead, his expression growing hungrier. "I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust —"

"Hagrid's my friend," my voice was shaking. "And you framed him, didn't you? I thought you made a mistake, but —"

"It was my word against Hagrid's, Harry," Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn't suit him.. "Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so _brave_, school prefect, model student... on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls... but I admit, even_ I_ was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought _someone_ must realize that Hagrid couldn't possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken _me_ five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance... as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!

"Only the Trasnfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed... Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did..."

"I bet Dumbledore saw right through you," said Harry, his teeth gritted.

"Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled," Riddle said carelessly. "I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn't going to waste those long years I'd spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with, luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."

"Well, you haven't finished it," said Harry triumphantly. "No one's died this time, not even the cat. In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready and everyone who was Petrified will be all right again —"

"Haven't I already told you," said Riddle quietly, "that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been — _you_."

Harry stared at him.

"Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Anya who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I tried to hurt you?" Riddle rolled his eyes. "So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin's heir. From what I had been told, you were foolish enough to stick your nose in other people's business - and more so if one of your best friends was attacked. So, I made Anya attack that Mudblood girl to remind her what her place was. And she had already told me the whole school was buzzing because you could speak Parseltongue...

"I made Anya write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. It was a pity her life had to end like this but she was of no use to me anymore. She struggled and fought until it became too boring to watch. There isn't much life left in her, why the bother? I was powerful enough to finally leave the diary's pages at last... I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you'd come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter."

"Like what?" Harry spat, fists still clenched.

"Well," said Riddle, smiling pleasantly, "how is it that _you_ — a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent – managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

"Why do you care how I escaped?" Harry said slowly. "Voldemort was after your time..."

"Voldemort is my past, present... and future, _Harry Potter_..."

* * *

My eyes started to flutter open. I felt so cold... why it was cold around here?

With panic, I shot up from the ground and stared around me. I was on a dark chamber, facing up at the familiar monkey-ish face of Slytherin. My robes were wet and hanging from my body, making me shiver.

Everything came back on a rush and I couldn't help but let out a tiny sob. It was from happiness and sorrow. I was finally free from Tom's clutches. FREE!

But there was another part... that one that mourned the loss of a friend... the guilt of everything I had done this year...

All because I was _selfish_...

"Annie," I turned around at the sound of Harry's voice. My eyes wandered from his hurrying figure to the sword to his hands and finally, at the dead basilisk behind him. The beast's eyes were bleeding and there was a small amount of blood on its fangs.

"Harry," I cried. "Oh Harry, you're alright! Its my fault! I was the one who petrified Hermione and the others! I was going to tell you - really, but I was scared of what you guys would think of me - I've already gotten bad fame because of who I am -"

"Annie," Harry interrupted. "Everything is alright. I promise."

The tears started to fall. Sobs rocked my whole body and I curled on the spot, my arms hugging my legs. Harry stood awkwardly, staring down at me with those emerald eyes of his. Finally, he let the sword fall at his side and knelt beside me. I felt his arms going around me, and I immediately turned my head to hide it on his neck. My hands grabbed everything they could of him - his robes, his bloodied hands -

"Shh... everything is fine. It's over... It's just a memory..."

His words soothed me until I stopped crying and after that, everything became a blur.

The only thing I have clear was when we were going to leave the Chamber, I finally took off the black choker with the coin and tossed it at Slytherin's statue. It had bounced from the nose down to the large puddle of water.

And as I looked back at Harry, who gave me a reassuring smile, I knew that he was right. Everything was going to be fine.


	16. No More

For a moment, there was an uncomfortable silence. Harry, Ron, Lockhart and I stood awkwardly in the doorway of Mr. Dumbledore's office, covered in muck and slime, (in my case) dirt and water and on Harry's behalf, blood.

Then there was a scream.

"_Annie_!"

It was Natasha Rosenberg, who had been sitting silently in front of the fire. She jumped to her feet and flung herself at me. I sighed in relief, letting her mat my hair with her trembling hands and I tightened my grip around her waist. Everything that had happened before Riddle was forgotten.

"Anya Carina Barton, I thought I lost you too," said Natasha quietly on my hair. "I thought you had left me the same as your father did."

My throat constricted and I felt the tears falling once again down my cheeks. Then I stared bewildered as my redheaded guardian swept both Harry and Ron into a tight embrace.

"And you two saved her. I will be forever grateful to both of you, but how did you do it?"

"I think we'd all like to know that," said Professor McGonagall weakly, standing by the mantelpiece beside Mr. Dumbledore.

Natasha let go of the boys and hesitating, Harry walked over the desk and laid the sword I had seen down in the Chamber and Tom's diary.

Then he started telling them everything; the voices he had started hearing, how Hermione had realized moments before she was attacked that the creature had been a basilisk traveling by the pipes, how he and Ron had followed some spiders at the Forbidden Forest (I shot Ron a pitying look), how he had guessed that the murdered girl was Moaning Myrtle, and that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was in her bathroom...

"Very well," Professor McGonagall prompted him as he paused, "so you found out where the entrance was — breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add — but how on earth did you all get out of there alive, Potter?"

"A very good question," Natasha agreed weakly, holding me on her lap as she sat in an armchair.

With his hoarse voice, Harry told them about Fawkes's arrival and about the Sorting Hat giving him the sword. But then he faltered. If he spoke more of what had happened, everyone would know what I had done. So far he hadn't mentioned Tom's diary or me - and I was grateful for it, but it was inevitable. Either he told them or I would.

It was Mr. Dumbledore though, who solved Harry's dilemma.

"What interests_ me _most," he said gently, "is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Anya, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania."

"The Dark Lord?" Natasha said sharply, her hand going still on my shoulder. "He enchanted Annie? How is that possible? He can't touch her whilst she still at Hogwarts!"

"It was this diary," Harry said quickly, picking up the ink splattered book and showing it. "Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen..."

"Thomas Marvolo Riddle," Natasha whispered. "_Unbelievable_. After all these years..."

"He was brilliant, of course," said Dumbledore as he took the diary from Harry and peered keenly down his long, crooked nose at its burnt and soggy pages. "The most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen."

I exchanged shocked looks with the boys. Mr. Dumbledore and Natasha knew about Riddle?

"Not many knew that Lord Voldemort's was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school... traveled far and wide... sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."

"But Annie," said Natasha, "how did you get into this mess?"

I sniffed. "I - I have been writing to him. With the diary - I talked with Tom through the diary."

Natasha didn't shout. She slowly turned me around to face her and knelt in front of me, so that I was looking at her blue-green eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me, sweetheart?"

A small glare started to form but it dissolved as quickly as it came. It wasn't worth it.

"I felt that if you keep things from me, it was only fair I should do the same. Because he understood," and it was true. As much as I hated to admit it, Tom Riddle was the only friend that could see who I was. Through all the lies he told me, I was sure of one thing: I had really been his first friend. Because liking it or not, we both were the two sides of a coin.

"Miss Barton should go up to the hospital wing right away," Mr. Dumbledore announced in a firm voice. "This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment." I looked at him in shock. The old Professor smiled kindly. "Older and wiser wizards than you have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort, Anya." He strode over to the door and opened it. "Bed rest and perhaps a large streaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up. You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She's just giving out Mandrake juice - I daresay the basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment."

"So Hermione's okay!" Ron said brightly. I smiled shakily.

"There has been no lasting harm done, Anya," Dumbledore said.

"Annie," I cut him. "I am Annie, sir. Anya makes me feel too old."

He smiled. "As you wish, then."

* * *

"And so you met Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "I imagine he was _most_ interested in you..."

"Professor Dumbledore... Riddle said I'm like him. Strange likenesses, he said..."

"_Did_ he, now?" said Dumbledore, looking thoughtfully at Harry from under his thick silver eyebrows. "And what do you think, Harry?"

"I don't think I'm like him!" said Harry loudly. He blushed. "I mean, I'm — I'm in _Gryffindor_, I'm..."

But doubt showed in his face and he fell silent.

"Professor," he started again after a moment. "The Sorting Hat told me I'd — I'd have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought_ I_ was Slytherin's heir for a while... because I can speak Parseltongue..."

"You can speak Parseltongue, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly, "because Lord Voldemort — who _is_ _one_ the last remaining descendants of Salazar Slytherin — can speak Parseltongue."

"One of the last remaining, sir?"

"I am not sure Harry, but I believe you're aware you're not the only Parseltongue currently residing at Hogwarts?"

"No... _wait_, Annie?" said Harry shocked. "But - _how_?"

"Sometimes Harry, is better to leave some things unspoken of," Dumbledore sighed. "When the time comes, Miss Barton will tell you and your friends everything. But she's not ready, not yet. But returning to your original question, if I'm not mistaken, Voldemort transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure..."

* * *

I sat silently in one of the beds in the Hospital Wing, watching as Madam Pomfrey, with Natasha and Professor Sprout's help, hurried up and down the infirmary. They were pouring the Mandrake juice on their mouths, which fortunately all had been slightly open to do so.

I didn't let anyone see me when they woke up. Not even Hermione.

Natasha came back as she came from talking with my bushy haired friend.

"I told her everything what happened," she said. "I hope that doesn't bother you, but the girl seemed ready to lash out if she wasn't informed of the events during her absence."

I chuckled. "That sounds like Hermione."

We fell silent, and I stared down at my lap not knowing what to say. Should I apologize again? I shook my head.

"I _did_ die, you know," I looked up. Natasha wasn't looking down at me but rather at the white ceiling. She sighed and let herself fall on her back. I did the same, not turning away. "It was a nightmare, honestly. Many people call it the McKinnon's Masacre. Since that day, I count the years as the time Thea Collins died," my eyes widened. "Yes, that's my name. Natasha Ariadne Collins. Rosenberg is the family House I was born into; both your father and I had to take the respective names of our ancestors when we had been sent here to Hogwarts as a way to establish 'international bonds'."

Nat sighed. "I'm not proud of how I survived, Anya. There isn't a day that I had not dream of my parents' void faces. Of one of my closest friends' corpse, and her family..."

"Nat, why is everyone so shocked that you are alive? I mean - how did they find a body?" I asked quietly. "You're here. There's no way there were _two_ of you..."

"Like I said, I am not proud of it," Natasha chuckled ruefully. "There are many speculations as to how I had came back from the dead, the main one being that because I belonged to Slytherin's House, that I was revived by Death Eaters."

"You - you belonged to Slytherin?" I stuttered. "And I know this _now_?"

"You never asked me where I was sorted in," said an amused Nat. "You couldn't clearly expect anyone you know belongs to Gryffindor."

"Sorry," I muttered. "You were saying..."

"Oh, yes. The theories... I was ready to be killed - by the same mad man that killed my parents. I didn't want that to happen, not by his hands, nor at the time. It's still fuzzy, but I remember casting a spell... _Gemina Corporis_... the duplicating spell..."

"That's not -"

"It's powerful magic, Annie. Ancient magic. Only a selected few knew how to use it," Nat closed her eyes. "I saw myself, _asleep_. The spell hadn't worked as well as it should, but it worked. I made Voldemort's followers think that body was _me_, an unconscious Thea Rosenberg. I watched as they burned her alive," a lonely tear ran down Natasha's face, making me understand the seriousness of the tale. "In some morbid way, a part of me did die that night."

I watched her silently. I was bursting to ask so many questions, but... was she ready to answer them?

"Nat, I just need you to tell me something very important."

She nodded her head, prompting me to continue.

"How is Tom involved with my father?"

* * *

As I ran, I caught sight of Harry's back. In front of him was Lucius Malfoy and between them stood a small strange creature with bat-like ears and eyes size of tennis balls. I could only tae a wild guess and say this was Dobby, the house-elf that had been trying to kill Harry through all the year.

"…they were meddlesome fools, too." I hid a little to not intrude.

As Mr. Malfoy turned to go, he called Dobby, but the house-elf was looking down at a slimy sock between Tom's diary. I wrinkled my nose, watching as Harry's face turned a little smug. What was he planning?

"Master has given a sock," said Dobby looking beyond disbelief. "Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby – _Dobby is free_."

I smiled at the hapinnes of the elf and of Malfoy's stunned expression.

"You've lost me my servant, boy!" he lunged at Harry, but before he could do something, Dobby shouted, "You shall not harm Harry Potter!"

There was a loud bang, and Mr. Malfoy was thrown backward. He crashed down the stairs, three at a time, landing in a crumpled heap on the landing below. He got up, his face livid, and pulled out his wand but Dobby raised one of his longs finger threateningly at him.

"You shall go now," Dobby said fiercely while pointing. "You shall not touch Harry Potter. You shall go now."

And Malfoy had no choice. With a last furious stare, he dramatically swung his cloak around and hurried out of sight.

I stood there, kind of only leaving them have their moment. After all, it was a very important moment for Dobby.

"Harry Potter freed Dobby!" the elf said happily as he looked at Harry with his orb-like eyes. "Harry Potter set Dobby free!"

"Least I could do, Dobby," Harry grinned. "Just promise never to try and save my life again."

I smiled fondly, shaking my head at Harry's not-unexpected petition.

"I've just got one question, Dobby," said Harry as Dobby pulled on Harry's sock with shaking hands. "You told me all this had nothing to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, remember? Well —"

"It was a clue, sir," said Dobby, his eyes widening, as though this was obvious. "Was giving you a clue. The Dark Lord, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see?"

There were a lot of holes in that theory to really understand it.

"Right. Well, I'd better go. There's a feast, and my friend Hermione should be awake by now..."

Dobby threw his arms around Harry's middle and hugged him.

"Harry Potter is greater by far than Dobby knew!" he sobbed. "Farewell, Harry Potter!"

And with a final loud crack, Dobby disappeared.

I finally leaped out of my hiding and before Harry knew it, I threw my arms around him on a vice-like grip.

Then I did something that shocked us both. Leaning forward, I kissed his cheek. His face turned a bright tomato shade, making me chuckle lightly.

"That's a 'thank you for saving me from the evil diary' gift. But," I glowered at him slightly, "If you ever tell about this to _anyone_, I will hex you." I let go of him.

"I don't doubt it," Harry grinned.

* * *

As we cheered, Professor McGonagall stood and said, "As a school treat, all the exams had been cancelled."

"Oh, _no!"_ Hermione sighed. I couldn't be more happy. I cheered loudly along all the students.

Suddenly the doors flew open and Hagrid appeared. "Sorry I'm late! The owl that delivered my release papers got all lost and confused. Some ruddy bird called Errol," Dumbledore gave an incredulous look at Ron whom smiled sheepishly. Hagrid cuffed Harry and Ron so hard on their shoulders that they were knocked into their plates of trifle.

Amazingly Dumbledore awarded Ron and Harry four hundred points for special services at School, securing that Gryffindor won the House cup two years on a row. And he later announced that Professor Lockhart was going to be unable to return next year, in order to get his memory back. It was rather funny to see Professor Flitwick cheer loudly at that. But he wasn't the only one who did: even Snape had _smiled_.

"Shame," Ron said while he helped himself a jam doughnut. "He was starting to grow on me."

* * *

Natasha had stayed until the year's final feast had passed by. Of course, she told Annie she would be returning to St. Louise's and that she would be waiting for her at King Cross Station. It was a small lie, but Natasha needed to do this by herself. She already had asked permission to Dumbledore, so she didn't worry of Filch catching her out of bounds. The memory of her own school years made her laugh.

The sound bounced from the walls, echoing around her like a whisper.

Nat walked until she was standing at the staff's table, facing down at all the four tables. Slytherin and Gryffindor were at each farthest side of the room.

Nostalgia invaded for the first time in thirteen years. Had not all of her closest friends been into Gryffindor, when she instead had sat in the loneliest corner of the snakes' table?

She could still see them sitting there, laughing at the prospect of dating, Quidditch or even one of James Potter's famous plans to get Lily Evans' heart.

For the first time, a Slytherin sat on the Gryffindor table. Not Natasha, but Thea, stared around her longingly.

And the memories came back in a rush.

The leader, James Potter professing his love, his messy hair making him look more crazier than he already was; the lovely Lily Evans, rolling her eyes at Potter's antics, but a small blush that could rival her own red hair staining her cheeks; the strong Marlene McKinnon, looking as gorgeous as ever with her blond hair and baby blue eyes: the lovebirds, Frank Longbottom and Alice Prewett, trying to be subtle at the way they looked at each other; not so noticeable Peter Pettigrew, sitting there like a silent mouse and awing at whatever his friends did; the handsome twins, Sirius and Cassiopeia Black muttering to each other in sync, pointing down at a piece of parchment and writing, without doubt, about their future pranks; Prefect Remus Lupin, watching his friends in silence with a small smile, the scars on his face not looking so striking as they always did on his face; and finally, her own cousin, the studious Alec Barton. A Gryffindor by hear until the end.

Natasha snapped out of her reverie as someone sat across her.

"I still can see them all," she whispered. "The Marauders, Lily and Alec... they are still _here_. How did you manage to wake up each morning and go through this for eleven years?"

Severus Snape didn't answer.

"I don't. Because I still see them every day. I see Potter laughing with his friend, Weasley, and I watch as Barton discuss with Granger about their future classes."

Natasha looked up at Severus.

"They are not their parents, Severus," she scolded lightly. "Harry is not James, and Annie is certainly not Cassie."

Severus rolled his eyes. "I know."

"Then why do you keep torturing yourself?" she wondered. "There was nothing you could have done to save Lily! Or Alec!"

"I owe it to them," he snapped. "Even though they abandoned us, it doesn't meant I am going to do the same."

"Oh, Severus!" Natasha's eyes looked near to tears. "You forget that it was _us_ that drove them away. We did it s many times that they just gave up, wondering if there was still hope for us."

"You weren't fully left behind," Snape sneered. "Black and that mutt of yours kept coming back like scorned lovers until you gave into them."

"And did I not do the same with you, Severus Snape?" said Natasha sharply. "Even after what you did, did I not return to save your damaged soul?"

Snape stood up.

"I was already deep down when you decided to come back," he said quietly. "You were late, Thea. Too late to save me."

He started to walk down to the big oak doors, but a small whisper reached down to his ears.

"It wasn't, and is still isn't, late. It never is."

* * *

The rest of the term passed as quickly as it came. Everything around here was normal, except that we didn't have our classes of Defense Against the Dark Arts, but I didn't care much about that. I still didn't tell my friends what exactly had been exchanged between Tom and I, and if I had my way, they would never know.

Lucius Malfoy had been sacked as a school governor and Draco no longer strutted around like he owned the place.

As for me, I was a lot happier. No longer I kept quiet, and I snapped cheerily at however annoyed me - mainly Slytherins. I was still referred to as Annie by friends, but now I saw myself as _Annie_. Anya had been locked away from my subconscious, and I somehow came to be used by that. I apologized personally to those who had been petrified, even to Mrs. Norris. All four of them had forgiven me, but Filch had snarled at me that he would get his payback some day.

Too soon, it was time for the journey home on the Hogwarts Express. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred George and me got a compartment for ourselves, and used the last hours to use magic playing Exploding Snap, setting off the last of Fred and George's Filibuster fireworks, and practiced disarming each other by magic. I was already a professional by now.

We were almost at King's Cross when Harry turned his whole attention to me.

"Annie – what did you see Percy doing, that he didn't want you to tell anyone?"

Ginny giggled. "You haven't told them yet?"

I shrugged. "It wasn't my business, but if you insist to tell – Percy's got a _girlfriend_."

Fred dropped a stack of books on George's head. Where did he got those?

"_What?"_

"It's that Ravenclaw prefect, Penelope Clearwater," I said.

"That's who he was writing to all last summer" added Ginny, "He's been meeting her all over the school in secret. Annie and I walked in on them _kissing _in an empty classroom one day. He was so upset when she was — you know — attacked. You won't tease him, will you?" she added anxiously.

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Fred, who was looking like his birthday had come early.

"Definitely not," said George, sniggering.

The Hogwarts Express slowed and finally stopped.

Quickly, Harry pulled out his quill and a bit of parchment and turned to us.

"This is called a telephone number," he told Ron, scribbling three times, tearing the parchment in three and gave us the pieces. "I told your dad how to use a telephone last summer – he'll know. Call me at the Dursleys', okay? I can't stand another two months with only Dudley to talk to..."

"Your aunt and uncle will be proud, though, won't they?" said Hermione as we got off the train and joined the crowd thronging toward the enchanted barrier. "When they hear what you did this year?

She was careful enough to not say what happened in front of me.

"Proud?" said Harry. "Are you crazy? All those times I could've died, and I didn't manage it? They'll be furious..."

Together, we laughed and walked back through the gateway to the Muggle world, wishing for the next year to come sooner.

* * *

DUM DUM DUM!

Prepare drums please:

Next in theaters, the remake of_** Anya Barton Book Three: Secrets of the Innocent**_.

COMING SOON TO YOUR COMPUTERS!


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